Operation: Claws
by Hawki
Summary: Novelization: The Brood War left the Koprulu Sector in ruins, death and destruction reigning down on its inhabitants. Yet even in the aftermath, joy can still be found. Planet Christmas is one such location...at least until the arrival of the zerg.
1. The Plan

**StarCraft-Operation: Claws**

**Chapter 1: The Plan**

**December 12, 2501 **

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

**Christmas Corporation Loading Docks**

It was said by some, especially those amongst the Fringe Worlds, that pride was a sin. If that were true, then he would have to get back to experiencing the other six.

Of course, even if he _had _conformed to the edicts of some deity that he'd never seen and all things considered, probably never would, he'd be fighting a losing battle right now. For even after all had occurred recently in the Koprulu Sector, from the fall of the Confederacy to the conclusion of the Brood War, the simple pleasures that stemmed from human culture remained. Of course, the loading of a fleet of space freighters with uncountable goods wasn't exactly simple but rather the root of the sin of pride he was feeling right now, but the spirit had been preserved.

_And that's my mandate, _he reminded himself. _And to hell to any zerg, Dominion lackeys or Earth-borne fascists that say otherwise._

He let out an inaudible sigh, not due to lack of breath, but rather due to the sound being drowned out by the ships on the ground. In reality, if any of those parties _did _say otherwise, there was precious little he could do. Planet Christmas' security had always relied on its isolation for protection, like the bulk of the Fringe Worlds. The now defunct Terran Confederacy had let them be and as such, didn't pull the planet down with it when the zerg cast it down into the pit reserved for regimes that denied its people its rights. It would be a full pit probably, but he somehow suspected that there would always be more room. Allowances had to be made for governmental shifts after all.

Nothing ever changed and he knew that. The Terran Dominion was the latest in a line of governments founded on 'popular will' and it was only a matter of time until it met the same fate as its predecessor. Of course, with Mengsk's regime left in tatters and the zerg having been united under one of the emperor's former officers, infested by the zerg and been given a dose of megalomania to boot, he suspected that the Dominion's fall would come sooner rather than later.

_And that's no great loss, _Santa Claus reminded himself. _Regimes that don't even try to hide their hypocrisy never last long._

Santa Claus wasn't his real name of course. In fact, with short black hair, small gray eyes, a thin moustache and a lanky figure that was liable to fall over in a breeze, he was about as far away from Santa as one could get. True, there were differing theories as to the nature of the reindeer riding philanthropist that lived in the North Pole back on Old Earth until all the ice melted, but the image remained; a fat jolly man with white hair, a red suit and a can of some unknown soft drink in his hand.

But he didn't care. He'd founded the Christmas Corporation more than a decade ago, dedicating his life to bringing joy to those amongst the Fringe Worlds. He'd been doing this job himself for over ten years. And even if the status quo in the Koprulu Sector had changed, nothing had changed out here. And it never would.

_Time to get to work, _Santa thought, seeing the last of the freighters touch down as the system's yellow star rose, casting light over the ice sheets that he suspected would have been similar to the spectacle's that once existed back on Earth. _Time to get to work and make this the best Christmas ever._

After all, even escaping most of the carnage of the Brood War, the Fringe Worlds deserved that much.

* * *

**Deep space platform **_**Ithaca**_

The _Ithaca _lived up to its namesake. Small, insignificant and bearing internal conflict.

There were a few problems with the analogy of course. Ithaca had been an island rather than a space platform constructed outside the Polaris Beta System for refueling and resupply of ships only capable of subwarps. Ithaca hadn't been damaged to the extent that it was criss-crossed with the signs of explosive weaponry and projectile fire. And at least Ithaca had had its king return to lead rescue his homeland and reunite with his wife and child.

The space platform possessed no such luxury. Its lands were ruined beyond restoration, its people slaughtered and even its captain could somehow pull his body parts together and return to the realm of the living, there would be nothing worth saving anyway.

Oh, and there were the zerg to deal with. A lot of them.

Contrary to general belief, the zerg were not mindless beasts. Beasts, certainly, but not mindless. After all, mindless beasts didn't take care to not ruin the gravity accelerators and atmosphere generators of a target vessel. Mindless beasts didn't set a course with captured vessels. And by definition, mindless beasts weren't sentient.

_I'm brilliant, _the sentient beast thought. _I'm absolutely brilliant._

The Zergrinch knew that arrogance was potentially dangerous and if it possessed the mental capacity to fully understand what danger actually was, it may have sought to deal with it. Of course, that would mean dealing with everything from pride to righteousness, a task that it simply didn't have time for.

"Brothers!" it called. "Today, victory is ours!"

The assembled horde roared its approval. Well, technically it was his approval and via its telepathic link that they were compelled to roar, but that made no difference. It had an ego to fill and if filling it had to be done by self praise, so be it.

"The Overmind lacked vision!" it continued. "It lacked purpose! It lacked purity! And for that, my brothers, it was smote down by fate!"

It didn't really feel this way of course. It had served the Overmind well in its day, the singular, all powerful entity that guided the zerg race to achieve the destiny the xel'naga had ordained, to become a species of perfection. Those deemed worthy were assimilated into the Swarm, the unworthy purged by the way of tooth and claw. As one, the Swarm forged a path of destruction throughout the stars. One vision. One purpose. One destiny.

At least, that used to be the case. Now, with the Overmind lying defeated on the protoss homeworld of Aiur and its successor lying dead and trampled among the ashes of Char, the zerg's status quo had changed and not for the better. The Overmind's prodigal, the human once known as Sarah Kerrigan, had defeated her rivals and ascended to leadership of the Swarm as a whole, but she was not the only leader vying for control. Nothing could rival the psionic powers of the Overmind and as such, numerous zerg splinter groups existed, guided by those granted sentience by their father. Some following their original goals, some with new goals altogether.

Most of these groups were led by cerebrates, the agents empowered by the Overmind to lead distinctive Broods. The Zergrinch was an exception, and with the body of a Defiler and a mind shattered by the severing of its telepathic link with its creator, it showed.

"Dark times beset our race," the Zergrinch continued, clicking its claws together. "The false queen resides upon the throne of Char. Only we possess the holy light to lead our brethren to salvation. Only we know the true path."

Yet another roar of approval.

"And to this end, we return to Planet Christmas," the Defiler continued, raising itself high on the ruins of the platform's control center. "We return to purge it by the way of blood and fire. We return to put an end to the elitist ways of the humans and their blasphemous ways."

As per the Zergrinch's will, its minions leant forward. Squat doglike Zerglings, snake-like Hydralisks, the ferocious Wargs… All loyal to him, all willing to fight and die for his cause. No, that wasn't quite right. Will had nothing to do with it. Only his will existed. Only his will could guide the zerg to salvation.

"Know this," the Zergrinch said slowly. "On this day, we stand united. On this day, we begin our march to salvation. On this day, those who turned from the true path will see the light of truth…"

The Zerg leant forward…

"**And death to those who would stand against us!"**

Yet another roar from the Zergrinch's followers, yet one that dwarfed all those that had come before it. The zerg possessed no need for the atmosphere generators, able to survive the vacuum of space without aid. Yet the Zergrinch wanted to hear their roars, wanted to hear the reaffirmation of the 

righteousness of its cause. To take Planet Christmas and put an end to the blasphemous ways of the humans and the holiday from which the planet took its name. And even if the artificial atmosphere allowed sound to be transferred throughout the platform, what did it have to lose?

If it had known about the Observation Drone hovering above, it might have thought otherwise…

* * *

_**Behemoth**_**-class Battlecruiser **_**Hyperion**_

It was almost appropriate really.

If Lieutenant Matthew Horner had voiced his thoughts out loud and someone had been on the bridge of the _Hyperion _to hear them, their possible reactions would be limited. Most likely, they would assume, or rather _hope_, that he was joking, that he didn't seriously believe that a mad zerg rallying its forces was a good thing in any way. Still, there was always the possibility that such a person would have taken the lieutenant seriously and proceeded to ensure within the next few seconds that said lieutenant was riddled with bullet holes. The Brood War had been devastating, but it had at least taught humanity a valuable lesson. Never trust _anyone_.

"But I can trust you, can't I?" Horner murmured, looking at the readout of the drone's signal. "Machines can break, but they don't lie…"

Horner lay back against his pilot's seat and rubbed his eyes, the near constant weariness he'd felt for the past month coming back in force. He doubted whether the Zergrinch understood the significance of the date, that it was on this day two years ago that the protoss had been confronted over Mar Sara. Not the start of the Great War, but for many, it had been the beginning of…well, something worse. Something that the zerg personified. And for all its apparent ideology and desire to separate itself from the Overmind, the Zergrinch was no different. It was something that existed for one reason as far as the lieutenant was concerned. Something to scream, bleed and die. Hopefully in that order.

Horner liked to think of himself as the same person he'd been last century. Ready to fight for what was right, bar the consequences. It was what had led him to join the Sons of Korhal and then abandon them when Mengsk lost the moral high ground. Even after the Brood War, he was ready to fight the good fight, regardless of the target. There was no shortage of devils in the Koprulu Sector and if he had to start with the smaller demons before moving on to the larger ones, so be it.

"Keep preaching, you mutant freak," Horner murmured, leaning towards the screen that displayed the image the drone was transmitting. "I want you to have the practice in screaming before-…"

"Who ya talking to Matt?"

Horner instinctively shot up from his seat, straightened himself up and saluted. It was an instinctive reaction and although Captain James Raynor never appreciated the gesture, Horner was determined to give the respect that the Mar Saran deserved. Raynor had done amazing things in his lifetime, things that Horner believed were worthy of recognition. So even if Raynor, dark eyes eyes bloodshot, black hair 

unkempt, a distinct lack of facial shaving having occurred and clutching a can of what Horner suspected was something that most ships would never stock, Horner was determined to maintain the status quo.

"No-one sir," Horner murmured, stepping aside to let Raynor take the pilot's seat.

Raynor stood his ground. "Am I interrupting something?"

Horner smiled. "No sir. In fact, you arrived just in time."

Raynor grunted, taking a swig of the beverage that he held in his hand. "That's a first."

Horner was tempted to claim that Raynor was never late for anything, but decided against it. He knew what the man was referring to. He'd been late for many things on Korhal, the Raiders being in a position to move against the zerg rather than reacting to them. Even so, they were too late. Too late to make a difference in the slaughter that followed the reclamation of Augustgrad. Too late to save Fenix.

Too late to realize the truth about Kerrigan…

"What is this crap anyway?" Raynor asked, eyes fixed on the screen. "Zerg have become religious nut jobs or something?"

"Only the Zergrinch sir," said Horner, also leaning closer to the screen. "You know about him I take it?"

"Only that he's that an advanced strain with the mental capacity of a cerebrate, and that he went insane after the Overmind's destruction." Raynor took another sip of the can, shook it, tossed it aside and drew a second from his belt. Horner raised an eyebrow. What kind of person kept cans of beer in a belt alongside grenades?

"Developed some strange ideas and attacked Planet Christmas during the Brood War," Raynor continued, opening the second can. "Utter failure of course. Mengsk is the only one who can successfully apply insanity to reality."

"Tell me about it," Horner smiled, hoping to find an area of common ground. "Difference is though, is that while Mengsk is left licking his wounds, the Zergrinch is looking to receive new ones."

"Or inflict them," Raynor murmured, watching as the zerg let out another roar of approval. "Some things never change I guess…"

Silence descended over the bridge, and not due to lack of staff. The zerg brought death and destruction wherever they went, yet Kerrigan had pulled them back after the final battle above Char. Something had definitely changed with the Swarm since the Queen of Blades took control, and most suspected that it wasn't for the better. Horner didn't fully understand the apparent love/hate relationship between Raynor and Mengsk's former lieutenant, but was still glad to see that the latter had taken precedence in recent times. Hate was unbecoming of Raynor, but in the case of the zerg's current ruler, Horner supposed that exceptions could be made?

"So…" said Horner eventually. "Shall I set our course?"

"Pardon?"

"I asked if I should set our course," Horner repeated. "You know…to intercept the Zergrinch."

"No," said Raynor simply. "It's Christmas's problem, not mine."

"What!?" Horner exclaimed. "We're just leaving them!?"

"Leaving who? The zerg or the Christmas Corporation?"

"Both!" Horner exclaimed, striding in front of Raynor. "There's zerg en route to a human planet, sir. We need to launch a pre-emptive-…"

"Matt, space platforms are hazardous enough without hell's offspring infesting them," Raynor murmured. "Besides, we don't know exactly how many forces the Zergrinch has."

"Then we head to Planet Christmas. It's only ten days out. We can-…"

"Matt, watch something other than the star map would you?" Raynor grunted, continuing to head for the exit. "We're public enemy number one, remember?"

Horner had to admit that that was true. With the Dominion in tatters and his military might shattered, Emperor Arcturus had to not only rebuild, but find someone to pin the blame on apart from his enemies. In the end, at least judging by the state controlled media, he'd pinned it on numerous rebel groups, the claims ranging from old fashioned anarchism to collaboration. It was a change from the previous line that Mengsk had risen to power via popular acclaim, that unlike the Confederacy, rebel groups were non-existent, but it was still effective.

And Raynor's Raiders, the bloodthirsty monsters who raped women and impaled children on pikes, were always at the top of the list…

"Planet Christmas is corporate owned, but they're still in contact with the Dominion," said Raynor slowly, addressing Horner as if he were a small child. "How do you think they'd react to the murderers of-…"

"Sir, you can't expect anyone to believe the bullshit that Mengsk is spewing out."

"No, I still have some faith that people are smart enough to realize that pikes are hard to come by," Raynor smirked. "Still, I don't think naming a planet something as unoriginal as Christmas when it's covered by ice signals particularly impressive intelligence." Raynor once again strode past Horner, heading out of the bridge to what Horner suspected was the cantina.

"Then we at least send a message to warn them," the lieutenant persisted, walking after his superior. "We have to do _something_."

"We don't _have _to do anything," Raynor called back, taking another swig of whatever was making his breath smell like...well, something that the cantina was often awash in. "We're free to do what we want out here."

"But sir, we have an obligation to-…"

"Damn it Matt, I'm not obliged to do anything!" Raynor shouted, spinning around in an instant. "This is _my _ship, _my _crew, and I'll be damned if I endanger either on a bunch of corporate jackarses who are loyal to-…"

"Emperor Arcturus," said Horner calmly. "The one who's going to look the hero when he sends in the Marines to rescue the planet once the distress calls start going out." His eyes narrowed. "You know, when most, if not all of the population has gone through a reenactment of New Gettysburg."

Raynor fell silent, Horner glad to see that he'd struck a nerve. Cruel, he knew that, but necessary. He knew what had happened to Raynor. After the Brood War, he'd lost faith in anything and everything. He no longer believed in anything. He no longer _did _anything. The idealistic rebel crusader had become a mere drunkard who...was taking a comm.. unit from his belt

"Swan, prep the engines," said Raynor into the comm.. unit suddenly, walking past Matt back to the bridge.

"Pardon?" asked Horner and the chief engineer simultaneously.

"I said fire up the engines," Raynor repeated, entering the bridge and heading towards the communications system. "We're going on a little space ride."

Horner watched as Raynor fiddled around on the comms. Console. It was almost sad really, that it had been the prospect of Mengsk being the hero that had spurred Raynor to action. Things had changed in recent months, but the captain's loathing of the man hadn't. Still, if a little evil had to be carried out for the greater good, then so be it.

"I know what you're thinking Matt," Raynor called out suddenly, pressing the _send _button as he did so. "And yes, you're right. Mengsk isn't a hero and he never will be." He let out a sigh. "And the galaxy has enough hypocrisy as it is."

Horner smiled. "You been listening to Mike's reports?"

"On and off," Raynor answered, still fiddling with the console. "Still, I doubt the media is going to help us on this mission."

"Then what is?" asked the lieutenant curiously, walking over. "Who are you sending this second message to?"

Raynor fell silent as he typed in the last parts of the message, once again pressing _send _at the end of it. Slowly, much slower than the transmission being sent through warp space right this second, Raynor turned back to his Executive Officer.

"Someone who can help us," the rebel said. "Someone who was also screwed over a year ago…"


	2. The Offer

**StarCraft-Operation: Claws**

**Chapter 2: The Offer**

**December 22, 2501**

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

**Christmas Corporation Loading Docks**

Three days until Christmas. Three more days…

Well, more like two and a half really, considering that it was now midday. Granted, Planet Christmas had a twenty-nine hour day, courtesy of its slow rotation due to the weight of its ice sheets, but considering that the 'universal' December 25th was set to a twenty-four hour, 365 day standard, it hardly made a difference.

_Still, we're on time,_ Santa reminded himself. _What's there to be worried about?_

In truth, very little. Then again, more than a decade had passed since he'd first conceived of the idea back in 2490, less than a year having passed since the end of the Guild Wars. The Terran Confederacy and the Kel-Morian Combine may have agreed on a 'negotiated peace', but the scars of the devastating conflict remained, the Fringe Worlds no exception. And while the Core Worlds were able to steadily recoup from the destruction that the conflict had inflicted, the Fringe Worlds had been left forgotten. Indifference and state sponsored aid programs could only go so far…

It was happiness that the people of the Fringe Worlds needed, he had realized, hence the founding of the Christmas Corporation on Christmas Day itself the year after he'd conceived of it. What better way to bring joy than to amplify what already listed, no matter how small? Thus, he had taken responsibility for acting Santa, taking orders for gifts throughout the year and delivering them, all at a discount price. Not as pure as the ideals of the original Santa back on Old Earth, the profit made notwithstanding, but those of the Fringe Worlds received what was on their lists. Chimneys weren't exactly common nowadays, but delivering presents in his own shuttle throughout the system, the spirit had been preserved as much as possible.

_We've been doing this for years, _Santa mused, watching as freighter SKT-13 touched down. _There's never been a hitch before. Why should this year be any different?_

In truth, he already knew. Well, not "knew" exactly, for knowing something implies a degree of certainty. And in light of the message he received about nine days ago, he'd been anything but certain. It had been a warning…a warning that the zerg were on their way to the planet, having taken over the _Ithaca _and were on their way to Planet Christmas itself. A force of zerg led by the Zergrinch…

In principle, there was nothing startling about such claims. The zerg were in a dominant position in the Koprulu Sector at this point in time and although the latest reports indicated that they had withdrawn to Char, Santa doubted that the Queen of Blades had accounted for every last zerg in this region of space. And considering that the Zergrinch had visited Planet Christmas before and had failed spectacularly, there was every reason to suspect that it would return. That was the zerg for you. They would never stop. They would never be bargained with…

There was a catch to the message though, and that was due to it being sent by the rebel/terrorist group known as Raynor's Raiders. A force that, at least according to the Terran Dominion, was a bloodthirsty band of thieves and murderers whose savagery rivaled that of humanity's alien foes. And while Planet Christmas was outside the control of the Dominion, Santa and the rest of the Christmas Corporation still acknowledged the Dominion's authority over the majority of terran controlled space. Not exactly a shining beacon of civilization, but if it claimed that James Raynor was a madman who deserved to be lynched, who was he to argue?

_But if Raynor _is _what the Dominion claims him to be, why bother sending the message?_ Santa wondered, his eyes facing the snow rather than the freighters touching down on the landing pads. _If they meant ill towards us, they would have attacked the planet outright, not sent a phony warning. And why would the man even identify himself?_

Santa shook his head. When Raynor had first contacted him, he'd dismissed it as a practical joke. But since when did madmen stoop to that level? True, the Brood War had reduced the fighting abilities of many terran factions in the Koprulu Sector, the Raiders possibly among them, but even so... A simple hoax designed to ruin Christmas really didn't seem like the man's style.

_But what else could it be? _Santa wondered, resuming his pacing. _The Dominion may be a totalitarian regime, but it's not as if it outright lies to people…_

For a few seconds, he was steadfast in that belief. A few seconds later, with numerous organic aerial organisms attacking the freighters, he wasn't so sure…

* * *

**Polaris Beta System**

_**Behemoth**_**-class Battlecruiser **_**Hyperion**_

Déjà vu was usually neither particularly pleasant nor unpleasant. After all, if events are repeating themselves in such a manner that only your sub-consciousness is stirred, they couldn't have been that dramatic. True, there were sometimes leanings towards a particular feeling in these moments, but for the most part, only idle memory was at work. Nothing more, nothing less.

Captain James Raynor, or simply Jim Raynor to the few people he still considered his friends (though how few considered the status quo mutual was another matter), knew that he was an exception. For the last few years, déjà vu had imposed itself on him numerous times, none of them pleasant. The destruction of Antiga Prime mirroring that of Mar Sara. Kerrigan reminding him of Liddy and Johnny. And now, to top it off, he was in the same position he was in back a year and a half ago.

Mengsk's actions over Tarsonis had shown the former Confederate Marshall that ideology was something best not followed, for it was guaranteed to lead to disappointment. There were exceptions of course, Mengsk achieving his goals among them, but considering the lengths that the madman had gone to achieve them, Raynor would rather go with disappointment any day.

_But despondency is something else isn't it? _he reminded himself, staring out into the blackness of space from the _Hyperion_'s bridge. _It's the aftermath of New Gettysburg all over again._

Raynor remembered how he'd been after the fall of the Confederacy. Lost without a sense of purpose or direction, questioning his ability to lead and even wondering what his goals were. It had taken him two months for him to finally gain a sense of direction, but that direction had led straight into the depths of hell that Kerrigan (correction, Queen of Blades) had prepared for him, losing the bulk of his men to its jaws. True, the experience on Char had been partly worthwhile given the friendships he'd established with the protoss, likely the first human ever to do so. But in hindsight, it was a hollow moment. Both Tassadar and Zeratul were gone, their little triumvirate of companionship shattered. And like he'd been before meeting them, Raynor was left alone.

Jim sometimes wondered whether his inability to enact change was due to some fault of his own or due to some perverse form of fate, ensuring that the status quo was maintained. Still, although there were times when the rebel suspected it was the latter, this was one of the times he suspected that it was the former. Because fate was an all encompassing force and as far as he could tell, it had failed to exert its will over the individual who'd just walked onto the bridge.

"Alexander Granger," Raynor mused, still facing the void outside the ship. "You took your time."

"Can the theatrics Raynor, it doesn't become you."

Conceding the point, Raynor turned to face the former magistrate of Mar Sara, former Commander in the Sons of Korhal and now, as far as he could tell, a mercenary. Raynor hadn't had many dealings with those who chose that line of work, but had learnt that a show of authority was usually the best way to start a meeting, less their price take a sudden and "unexpected" rise. Still, considering their past history, perhaps a more social approach was required…

"Still as sharp as ever I see," said Raynor, turning round and walking down from the command area to the lower bridge. He smiled as he approached, one that for the first time in ages, was genuine. "It's been too long."

"One and a half years actually," the former magistrate said. "Not that long at all really."

Raynor's smile faded, his pace slowed. _Something's wrong._

Physically, Granger looked much the same as he had been back when Raynor had first seen him on Mar Sara. Short brown hair and gray eyes with a tall and somewhat gangly, he nevertheless radiated a sense of authority. That was what Confederate officers were like-they either radiated authority or corruption. And while Raynor didn't care much for the arm of Confederate 'law' all that much, he'd choose it over corruption any day. But now, Granger radiated something else. Something that rubbed the former marshal the wrong way…

"So…what have you been up to since Dylar?" Raynor asked slowly.

"Mercenary work, as you know," the former magistrate grunted, sinking into a chair usually reserved for the bridge's crew. "Or did my file fail to mention that?"

"No, your file was perfectly clear," answered the former marshal, his eyes narrowing.

"Then you don't have to ask questions, but rather provide answers," Granger snapped.

Raynor sighed, heading over to the star map. It was perhaps a good sign that the former magistrate wanted to get straight to the point, given the current situation. Even so, the lack of 

anything other than the minimum of conversation boded ill. Granger had been uncommunicative enough back when the Raiders had sized their fleet from the Dylarian Shipyards, the actions of Mengsk and the Confederacy having made him lose all faith in his fellow humanity.

_I wasn't so different though, _Raynor reminded himself. _I'm not so different now either._

There was a hole in the philosophy though, and Raynor knew it. He was only the same now as he'd been a year and a half ago due to reality going in a loop of repeated death and destruction. Granger however, was further from his original Mar Saran self than he had been when he'd left the Raiders, not seeing their cause (or any cause for that matter) worth fighting for. And bringing the star map up, an image of the Polaris Beta System being shown, Raynor was under no illusions as to what the likely repercussions of such a stream of thought.

Or the lack of it…

"Planet Christmas," said Raynor, gesturing to the system's fifth planet. "Owned by the Christmas Corporation, loyal to the Dominion, now currently under attack by zerg led by the Zergrinch."

Granger yawned, a motion either due to boredom, the rigors of warp travel, or both. "And this concerns us _how_, exactly?"

"It concerns us," said Raynor slowly, still facing the star map, "because zerg are on that planet. And we both know from experience that-…"

"Will result in an abundance of corpses."

Jim sighed again as he turned to face his 'friend.' "My point exactly. Which means that we have to do something."

Granger snorted. "Horner been getting to you has he?"

Raynor's brow narrowed. Horner had got to him alright, the conversation held ten days ago still fresh in his mind. The kid still thought he could save the universe, hence why that observation drone was at the _Ithaca _in the first place. But even though Matt had yet to grow up and insisted on taking everyone else on his idealistic crusade for righteousness and a lot of other melodramatic crap, Raynor was still grateful for it. Horner's discovery had given him a sense of purpose again, however brief. And considering what was at stake, Raynor was determined to make the most of it.

"Perhaps," murmured the Captain diplomatically. "But that's not relevant. What _is _relevant is that we don't have the numbers to engage the zerg in a manner I'd like to."

"Then how would you like to engage them?" Granger asked, sounding curious.

"I'd like to engage them with an expert tactician," answered Raynor slowly. "Someone who accomplished the impossible back during the situation with the Ion Cannon. Someone who's equally capable of taking to the field. Someone who, despite the universe not providing for such a sense, still has a sense of right and wrong." He smiled slightly. "And someone who's the only hope this planet has."

There was no mistaking who this someone was, hence why Granger leant back in the chair, stroking a chin that could probably do with a shave, deep in thought. Finally, after a period of Raynor holding his breath, the Commander spoke.

"How much are you paying me?"

* * *

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

**Christmas Corporation Loading Docks**

If hell was a place of ice and snow as opposed to fire and brimstone, Santa Claus was in it.

Given the current situation, few would disagree with that analogy, due to the fact that the circumstances presented _were_ akin to hell. The docks were aflame, the freighters ruined, and the screams of the dying or those about to die reverberated throughout the area. It was the last trait that was the true indicator that hell's minions had landed on Planet Christmas. When the zerg were involved, the line between being dead or being on your way to death was a fine one indeed.

The howls of the damned filled the air as Santa gazed around in shock. Well, more like screeches actually, large bat-like organisms unloading numerous 'glaives' into the docked craft, tearing them apart from within and without, while snake-like monstrosities roamed the docks unopposed, acting as angels of death. The zerg, for all their bestiality, had coordinated their attack well, their airborne strains focusing exclusively on the spacecraft, thus preventing any escape, while their ground warriors hunted the humans through the narrow corridors created by the docked ships.

_We've created our own deathtrap, _Santa thought bitterly, watching how a group of the snake-things corralled fleeing workers between two docked craft, proceeding to separate limbs from torsos. The freighters had landed in such a manner that, while easy to load and unload goods, had ensured that there was no open space. Precisely the conditions in which the zerg could do what they did best. Dealing death.

_Hell, it's the _only _thing they do…_

Yet in the middle of the carnage, Santa stood alone, unscathed, still caught up in shock. Mostly due to the arrival of the zerg of course, but also the shock that Raynor had been telling the truth. He'd never taken the Dominion as the most trustworthy of sources, but given the image that the media had painted of the Raiders, he was having a hard time formulating a new reality. Especially when reality included a trio of small dog like creatures bounding his way. Orange eyes blazing, scythes extending from their shoulder blades, fangs bared, ready to tear flesh from-…

"No!" he shouted suddenly, darting to the side with even greater speed. It was just as well that he did, considering that two of the creatures had jumped at him, the third darting forward. Santa was too focused on running to look behind to see the critters get tangled up in a mess of fang and claw, having expected to be tearing through human flesh instead of their own. Besides, he didn't have to. The zerg would keep coming for him. That was what they were like. They never stopped to rest. They never stopped for mercy…

Which was why Santa entered his shuttle as quickly as possible, determined to get the hell out of dodge. He fired up the engines, ignoring the scraping of the monsters' claws on the side of the craft. Tearing through flesh was one thing, but tearing through a starship's hull was another. And as ferocious as the zerg were, not even they could tear through steel.

_At least not those little bastards, _Santa thought bitterly, glaring down at the creatures as the shuttle slowly ascended. He knew that he'd been lucky really. If one of the snake things had come after him, the story could have been very different indeed. Despite the grim circumstances, despite the knowledge that he was running while others below him were fighting for their lives (and failing), relief surged over him.

A bit too much relief perhaps. For so relieved was he as he flew off that he didn't see some of the airborne zerg following. So glad to be alive, he didn't see a group of snake things looking up at the shuttle, staring at it with an alien intelligence that no human could fathom. So desperate to escape, that he didn't consider the possibility that he was a marked man…

A man marked by the Zergrinch…

* * *

**Polaris Beta System (outer regions)**

_**Behemoth**_**-class Battlecruiser **_**Hyperion**_

**One day ago**

"_Sir, are you mad!?"_

_Raynor let out a sigh that he fully intended for Matt to here. Usually, in the conditions that he'd become used to in the last month, he'd simply tell the lieutenant to focus on piloting, navigation or something that would get him to shut the hell up. Still, on the edge of the Polaris Beta System and with nothing but empty space between the _Hyperion _and their destination, that was an order he couldn't give without looking like an idiot._

_Of course, that was probably what Horner thought of him anyway…_

"_Matt, we have no idea how many forces the Zergrinch has," said Raynor irritably, determined to keep watching the stars rather than justify the lieutenant's concerns by facing him directly. "We need someone who can rely on more than brute force to achieve his goals. And for better or worse, Granger is the closest to our location, and we-…"_

"_Sir, he's a mercenary!" Horner shouted. "He abandoned us after Dylar IV and-…"_

"_Abandoned us _after _helping us size Dominion ships and making Duke look like an idiot simultaneously," Raynor interrupted, savoring the memories as he did so. "Besides, it's not as if we can get help from anyone official."_

_Horner fell silent, appreciating Raynor's point. Asking the Dominion for help was out of the question for obvious reasons. Mengsk would no doubt send in the Marines upon hearing of the invasion, but only once the Christmas Corporation had been wiped out, ensuring that he could add another world to his empire and look like a hero for wiping out some zerg as he did so. The Kel-Morian Combine and Umojan Protectorate were both too far out to send aid in time and had their own problems. And while there were numerous other rebel groups opposed to the Dominion, Raynor knew from experiencing that sharing the same enemy did not make you allies by default._

_Besides, what counted for a rebel these days was more along the lines of "psychopathic terrorist." The Dominion wouldn't admit it, but the Raiders were by far one of the most moderate rebel groups they faced. And if only for the sake of maintaining his sense of morality, Raynor was determined to keep it that way._

"_Look sir, I know that these are desperate circumstances," said Horner eventually. "And Granger _is _a capable individual, I'll grant him that. But it's been over a year since we last saw him. Who knows what-…"_

"_Matt, I won't deny that time has a way of changing people," interrupted Raynor. "But Alex and I go back to when all this started on Mar Sara." He turned to face Horner, smiling faintly. "Things change over time, but we parted on good terms. I'm sure he'll remember that."_

"_And if not?"_

_Raynor shrugged. "Then I'll look like an idiot I guess."_

* * *

**Polaris Beta System**

_**Behemoth**_**-class Battlecruiser **_**Hyperion**_

**(Present)**

Raynor hated looking like an idiot.

That was pretty much a given for anyone of course, and Raynor wouldn't deny that. Still, the times he'd looked like an idiot in recent years seemed to go hand in hand with disaster, ranging from Mengsk being revealed as the megalomaniac he was back at Tarsonis to Kerrigan showing her true colors back on Korhal. And while he doubted that Granger would unleash the hounds of hell to keep with tradition, given the current circumstances, he could still do the next worst thing…

…walk away.

"P…pay you?" Raynor asked clumsily.

"Yes James, _pay _me," Granger said calmly. "As in, pay me up front before I head down into hell's inner circle to purify the demons down there."

"The zerg aren't demons Alex."

The former magistrate smiled. "My point exactly. They're worse. Which is why I'm asking for payment now rather than later."

Raynor cursed under his breath while he toyed with the idea of asking Granger what kind of experience he had when dealing with demons. He decided against it. He needed the Commander on his side, and making jibes at illogical metaphors wasn't going to get him anywhere.

Then again, Raynor wasn't sure what _was _going to get him anywhere. It was understandable that Granger would ask for payment, everyone had to earn a living in this lonely universe. But he'd hoped that a sense of friendship would allow Granger to not only lower his price, but wait for later payment from a grateful Christmas Corporation.

_Friendship's definitely gone out the airlock, _the rebel mused. _But maybe…_

"Tell me Alex," said Raynor eventually, trying to convey a sense of authority. "Are you familiar with the concept of Santa's good list?"

"Santa's what!?"

"Santa's good list," Raynor repeated, seeing with satisfaction that the mercenary looked confused. "As in those he deems worthy of greater gifts than usual due to altruism and the like."

Granger chuckled. "What, you think that I'm interested in doing a job that results in me getting a few extra presents under the Christmas tree this year?"

"Pretty much. Especially considering that a check might be among them." Raynor smiled. "The jolly old man doesn't just give out presents you know…"

At least Raynor _hoped _that was the case. He'd grown up on the wrong side of the Koprulu Sector to have any contact with the Christmas Corporation, so had very little idea as to the exact nature of the presents that Santa gave out. Still, even if cheques weren't among them, Santa was still the CEO of a company that had to make a profit some way or another. And considering that they delivered to numerous star systems adjacent to Polaris Beta, surely the amount of profit they made would allow extra cheques to be written.

On the other hand, the zerg were involved, a species hardly known for limiting collateral damage. Assuming that Planet Christmas was salvaged, the Dominion would provide some aid to help its populace rebuild, if only for the media opportunity it presented. Still, considering that the planet was independently owned, most of the financing needed for rebuilding would have to come from the corporation's own coffers.

"So…if I save the day and all, I'm the one who gets paid for it?" Granger asked eventually.

"Pretty much," Raynor murmured. "Providing you get down there in time…"

"Alright," Granger said. "I'm in."

"Glad to hear it," said Raynor, shaking his 'friend's' hand. "You won't regret this."

_But I might…_

* * *

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

**Tunundrun Plateau**

"Fire!"

If the Zergrinch had gone through life giving the impression that it was a sane individual, it may have seemed odd that it would yell out such an order when all that was needed was a mere telepathic burst. Not only was telepathy a far more efficient method of communication, but the sound of his shout was drowned out by the hisses of the Wargs and the shrieks of the Drakes, both strains opening fire on the terran shuttle headed their way.

Still, the Zergrinch was one for grandeur, and mere telepathy didn't give that impression. He was proud of these variant strains that he'd developed. As a Defiler, it possessed the genetic code of all zerg organisms and had thus hand crafted the Wargs and Drakes, variant strains of those known as Hydralisks and Mutalisks respectively. Virtually identical to their predecessors, but each with a thin layer of fur around them, allowing for better functioning in the cold conditions of Planet Christmas.

_And it shows too… _the Zergrinch thought with satisfaction, seeing how the combined fire of his minions downed the shuttle in seconds. The pilot had been more focused on escaping death than looking out for it. And while the Wargs and Drakes could move quickly, the warmth that their hair provided also meant a greater amount of body heat. And while the Zergrinch doubted that a civilian shuttle would possess whatever technology humans used for detecting such signatures, when one considered the pilot…

"Santa Claus…" the Zergrinch snarled. "We meet face to face at large."

"Wh…what's going on?" Santa stammered, understandably shocked that a zerg actually talking rather than tearing him limb from limb. "How do you know me?"

"How do I know you!?" the Zergrinch thundered, drawing closer. "No not feign ignorance with me human! Your elitist ways have always been the bane of our existence! No surrender or be destroyed!"

The human seemed reluctant, glancing around the plateau as if looking for an escape route. A wasted effort as it was. The Wargs and Drakes had him surrounded, and the Zergrinch could tear him apart in an instant if he wanted to. Its insanity had stripped it of the means of using its regular abilities, but possessed great speed and strength as a compromise. A sign of divinity as far as it was concerned.

"Very well, I'll come," the human stammered, having come to the conclusions that a) this was the Zergrinch, b) that it was insane and c) that playing along was the only thing that could keep him alive for the foreseeable future. "But you won't get away with this. Someone will rescue me."

The Zergrinch through back its head and laughed, although the sound was more of a hiss than anything else. It presumably acted as a signal too, considering that a group of Wargs moved forward to take the human away to pay for his sins against the zerg, of spreading Christmas and all the blasphemy it represented.

The Zergrinch slithered over to the edge of the plateau, gazing down to the burning starport. Purged by fire and blade, as he should have done on this wretched planet long ago. A fate that awaited Christmas Village as well.

_All the pieces are in place, _the Zergrinch thought. _And once they are put together and my vision takes hold, Christmas shall be ours forever!_

* * *

_A/N_

_Hmm, that took longer than I expected. Still, uni isn't making fiction easy, especially with exams coming up and an assessment due to a near weekly basis. Anyway, a few things to point out about the nature of the chapter;_

_-The issue of player characters of the original _StarCraft _is one that could have been handled better IMO. Artanis being the Executor in Episode III was really stretching it for instance and the cerebrate being killed off in _Queen of Blades_, while at least canonizing it, prevented a sense of continuity for Episode VI and the cerebrate in _Hybrid_. The magistrate however, is a bit of a mystery. We know that his presence hasn't been retconned altogether, as he's mentioned in _Liberty's Crusade_. However, he's never seen, and his actions after the destruction of the Ion Cannon are a mystery._

_Anyway, I've taken a bit of liability and had him help Raynor with his raid on the Dylarian Shipyards. I intend to tell the full story someday, but I've basically slightly extended his role beyond his original place in the storyline._

_-Some of you may have noticed is that while the game mission has Santa using a Dropship, I've had him using a Shuttle. This is an intentional change. Firstly, while we know that Dropships are occassionly used by civilians, they're mostly military craft. Secondly, Dropships are seemingly incapable of travelling through warp space. But if that's the case, then how was Santa meant to be able to deliver his presents?_

_Given that the _Operation: Claws _was never meant as a serious mission and that game mechanics were involved, I changed it to a Shuttle. Not only would this allow larger storage of goods, but provide warp space transport also._

_-The absence of the protoss bandits from the mission is intentional, as there's no way I could have stretched reality that far. They wouldn't fight for a place on Santa's good list, let alone ally with the zerg to do it. So no, there's no protoss._


	3. Chain of Command

**StarCraft-Operation: Claws**

**Chapter 3: Chain of Command**

**December 22, 2501**

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

_**Behemoth**_**-class Battlecruiser **_**Hyperion**_

It was said that to look out into the void, to see the stars scattered throughout the heavens was a breathtaking experience. Looking out into said piece of space, 2nd Lieutenant Jacqueline Dawn had to disagree. Looking out into the vastness of space, all she could see was…well, space. A nothingness that would never be filled, but only grow more empty with the passage of time.

True, her current circumstances didn't exactly allow her the means to view the universe in all its glory, let alone the time. Unlike the antiquated _Leviathan_-class, _Behemoth _hanger bays were located in the rear of the ship's 'hammerhead', four hangers on each side, making it difficult for enemy craft to attack launching fighters or to carry out a boarding action. Oh, and there was also the matter of the force fields. The same force fields that allowed Dawn a view to the outside of the ship. Given the angle however, virtually all she could see was the rear sections of the _Hyperion_.

That was progress for you. And if she cared, she would have reflected on that. Regardless, she had other things to care about…

"Come on men, I wanted the equipment loaded yesterday!" Dawn exclaimed, pacing down the hanger as the Raiders hurried back and forth between the trio of Quantradyne APOD-33 Dropships set to take them down to the planet. "Equipment" was a perhaps a slight misnomer however, considering that the majority of the crates were boxes of ammunition. That was what one needed when fighting the zerg-enough bullets to kill all the little critters.

"Faster!" she barked at Private Cavatore, the scrawny kid having slouched against the _Espion_ to catch his breath. "The Captain isn't paying us by the hour."

Cavatore looked up at her. "Easy for you to say. All you have to do is walk around telling us what to do."

Dawn smiled faintly. "Part of the burden of leadership, Private. And since I've taken on that burden, the least you can do is not make it more difficult for me."

Cavatore seemed to consider making the burden more difficult, but presumably decided against it, getting to his feet and loading a box of fragmentation grenades into the Dropship. Dawn turned around as he did so, letting out a small sigh of relief.

Dawn knew that commissioned officer status was only hers because of two things-chain of command and that the zerg had proven most adept at killing off many of the Raiders' officers in the Brood War. With brown eyes, short brown hair and an average build, Dawn had never considered herself to be anything special, hence why she'd originally volunteered to become a medic. That way, she didn't have to shout to make herself known, but rather to get other people to stop shouting themselves, a task which suited her just fine.

_Not that that's changed much, _she reflected with satisfaction, walking through the hanger as the Raiders loaded the goods onto the Dropships. Discipline came to the Raiders naturally and when it came to the zerg, conviction too. Dawn was no exception, hence why she'd accepted Raynor's offer for a promotion to CO status. For leadership wasn't about shooting bullets and stabbing people, but telling other people to do those things. And if she was put in the position to ensure that she'd be the one in charge of directing such death against the zerg, she'd eagerly take it.

The position she'd be in less than an hour from now. At least if the crew got their act together…

Dawn willed them on, taking faith in the Raiders ability to get the job done. They'd proven their capability for rapid, surgical strikes back on Braxis when they took out the Psi Disruptor. And she was certain that Planet Christmas would be a repeat of the experience. So certain, in fact, that she didn't hear the exclamation of "officer on deck!" It wasn't until said officer tapped her on the shoulder that she became aware of his presence.

"You know," said Alexander Granger, "when someone higher in rank than you approaches, you're traditionally meant to salute.

Dawn barely felt his touch, courtesy of the NeoSteel of her standard issue CMC-405 Light Combat Suit. However, the shock that not only was Granger apparently her superior and that he was insisting that she address him as such more than made up for the lack of physical contact.

"Superior?" Dawn exclaimed indignantly, tilting her head to one side. "That's a bit much from a hired gun, isn't it?"

"Hired help my dear, not gun. If I were a hired gun, I wouldn't be in command of this operation, would I?"

Dawn's eyes went wide as a few things made themselves clear to her within the space of a few seconds. The first was that Granger was wearing sealed flak armor with a helmet tucked under one arm, the type used by pilots of Goliath Combat Walkers. The second was that on one of his shoulders was the image of a golden star and three golden stripes, the sign of a Commander. The third was that on his other shoulder was an insignia of a sheathed blade extending from a semi-circle, flanked by two unsheathed ones. The insignia of Raynor's Raiders…

"You…you're heading down with us?" Dawn stammered.

"Of course. What, you didn't think the fourth Dropship with the Goliath beside it was just for show did you?"

Dawn followed Granger's gaze to a fourth Dropship on the far side of the hanger. A Goliath Combat Walker, having been equipped with special shielding to allow entry through a planet's atmosphere, stood beside it, ready to attach itself to the Dropship's hull.

"I thought you were a tactician…" Dawn said slowly, still having trouble comprehending this.

"True," Granger shrugged. "But in case you haven't noticed, dealing with the zerg requires a hands on approach."

"Yeah, you'd know all about _that_," Dawn sneered. "The Brood War really gave us all insight into that little fact."

Dawn saw to her satisfaction that she'd struck a nerve. She knew about Granger, how he'd left the Raiders after the assault on the Dylarian Shipyards. He hadn't been there for the battles on Char, the fall of the Overmind, the carnage inflicted by the Queen of Blades… Granger had sat on the sidelines as a mercenary while people were dying throughout the sector. The former magistrate's actions were anathema to everything that Dawn believed in. And that the bastard was apparently leading the operation on Planet Christmas made her hate him all the more.

Given the look on the Commander's face, the feeling was apparently mutual…

"Let me make something clear, _Lieutenant_," he snarled, stepping forward. "I'm not in this for whatever sad little cause you believe in. I'm in this for the satisfaction of killing zerg and the paycheck at the end of the day."

"That doesn't surprise me," said Dawn.

"No, it shouldn't," Granger continued. "So keep in mind that unlike some people, I have no problem seeing reality. And sometimes, reality presents problems that require dealing with."

Dawn went pale. Never mind the fact that she was equipped in combat armor and had a C-7 "Stinger" Gauss Pistol holstered at her side, fully loaded. That Granger was referring to problems other than the zerg had seemingly frozen her sense of rage.

"Feel free to hate me as much as you want, Lieutenant," said the Commander. "But don't push me. Or I might be inclined to push back."

And with that, Granger walked past the medic, heading over to the Goliath. At least Dawn guessed that was the case. She was more intent on processing the information that Granger had given her and to not let it get to her to notice. So intent, in fact, that the process was not brought to a halt until someone else tapped her on the shoulder.

"Everything alright ma'am?"

Although caught up in a train of thought that she hardly cared for, the hand of a CMC-300 Powered Combat Suit, when coupled with a familiar voice, was enough to break Dawn out of the unpleasant recesses of her mind that Granger had cast her into. As such, the dark-skinned visage of Staff Sergeant Zach Ventrallis, was a welcome one indeed.

"No…no, nothing's wrong," Dawn murmured, fighting the urge to glance back to see if there was any sign of the pale horse. "Nothing at all…"

"Good, because we're all set to leave," said the NCO promptly. "All we're waiting for is the go-ahead."

Despite herself, Dawn couldn't help but smile. She knew that her assertion that nothing was wrong wouldn't rub off on most people and even if it did, they would still press the point anyway. That was part of the rules of etiquette, to at least act concerned for a person's wellbeing, even if a) said person isn't close to you and b) when one knows that the individual is unlikely to divulge anything. Still, always being direct and to the point, Ventrallis wasn't like most people.

_Perhaps a little too direct, _Dawn mused. Ventrallis was a capable officer, but had always been one for getting jobs done without asking questions. Efficient to be sure, but sometimes a liability. And while he was no doubt aware of the change in command, given Granger's presence, he hardly seemed to be bothered about it.

"Strange, isn't it?" said Dawn eventually.

"Pardon?" asked Ventrallis, his back turned to her as he supervised the loading of the _Zanzibar_.

"Strange in that Granger is leading this op," Dawn said, a little forcefully. "He leaves us at Dylar and now, a year later, he-…"

"Ma'am, Raynor saw fit to place Granger in command," Ventrallis interrupted. "That should be enough."

Dawn sighed. The Brood War had changed some people. Ventrallis, ever direct, never question his orders, wasn't one of them. And for once, questioning orders was what Dawn wanted her second-in-command to do, to reassure her that she wasn't the only one who was uneasy about a mercenary leading the Raiders into battle. She knew that she genuinely hated Granger, for everything he had (or rather, hadn't) done and what he represented, but numerous people hating the same thing was far more powerful.

"Lieutenant, are we ready to drop?" came a voice of a certain Goliath pilot over the Dawn's radio.

Dawn sighed. "Affirmative…sir," she answered, barely able to stomach the honorific. "All Dropships are loaded and ready for deployment."

"Good. Then I'm giving the go-ahead. Drop in five."

Dawn signed off, simply nodding to Ventrallis. Silently, he turned and headed up the _Zanzibar_'s ramp. The Lieutenant however, was not so prompt, glancing back towards Granger's Dropship, toying with the idea of committing some last minute sabotage. A pipe's dream as it was. Medical science was her purview, not engineering. Sighing, she followed after Ventrallis.

This was one hell of a way to spend Christmas…

* * *

**Deep space,**

_**Behemoth**_**-class Battlecruiser **_**Iron Fist**_

Less than a year ago, the _Iron Fist _would have been inappropriately named.

At least, that was the opinion that Commander Haley possessed. It would have been inappropriate for an Alliance ship to bear such a name in the wake of the UED's invasion of the Koprulu Sector, seeking to establish control over their wayward colonies, signaling the beginning of a new order. Haley couldn't speak from experience, but he knew that human nature never changed. And based on that fact, the UED would have been different in name only. They would close their iron fist over all of humanity if they'd had their way. And if that had been the case, the Commander's ship might have required a name change.

_But they lost, _Haley reminded himself. _It's a shame really._

Lounging in his command chair on the ship's bridge, devoid of any company except the numerous consoles surrounding him, Haley wondered if he was in a minority for thinking the way he did. He knew of Earth's history, how overpopulation, a lack of resources and the clash between corporate science and fundamentalism had swept the United Powers League into power, the organization bringing order out of chaos. Order was something that the Koprulu Sector didn't 

need however, or at least the kind that "Enlightened Socialism" represented. As such, it was hardly a surprise that the UED force had hardly been welcomed with open arms.

_And look what happened, _Haley mused bitterly. _They beat the snot out of us, the zerg beat the snot out of them and then pick up where our cousins left off. _He shook his head, trying to quell the feelings of respect he still felt towards the Queen of Blades. Her betrayal had been base in both concept and execution, but the results could not be denied. The Dominion was in ruins, the protoss were nowhere to be found and why the zerg hadn't absorbed the pieces into their gene pool was anyone's guess.

An empty can of _Tyrador Mindbender _fell into the can on Haley's left, a hand on his right reaching for another before it even hit the bottom. Under normal circumstances, Haley wouldn't have dreamed of consuming alcohol on the bridge. Still, having given the crew the remainder of December off in addition to Christmas, Haley was free to do what he wanted with little fear of losing image. Right now, with brown hair growing over his ears, red eyes due to a variety of reasons and the signs of facial hair, any sense of fear had evaporated. At this point, there was hardly any image to lose.

"Hardly anything else to lose either," Haley murmured, little knowing nor caring that he was talking to herself. "Stuck in this derelict tub, floating in space, cut off from all contact with the rest of the universe. At this rate I'll-…"

The Commander stopped, having summoned enough willpower to prevent a slide into insanity. Not that that was the only reason however. The beeping on the comms console also had a role to play. A beeping that, in the absence of a communications officer, Haley grudgingly resolved to answer.

Despite blurry vision due to a combination of alcohol and lack of sleep, Haley could still make out the transcomm sign, or rather, the lack of it. He raised an eyebrow, knowing that transmissions to a capital ship between star systems would usually be sent as priorities dictated and as such, would usually require verification of the recipient before receiving the data. Not that the Alliance really needed classification at this point in time, steering clear of the internal strife that had gripped the Dominion along with the looming breakup between Mengsk's empire and the territories of the Kel-Morian Combine and the Umojan Protectorate. Still…

_Wait a minute, this isn't from the Alliance at all, _Haley thought to himself, seeing the message appear on the screen. _At least I hope it isn't._

Hope was a word that had become alien to the Koprulu Sector in recent times, but Haley still found himself applying it. He had hope that it wasn't a message from the Alliance, for a simple alpha-numeric code didn't really convey a sense of professionalism. Indeed, this type of transmission was about as basic as one could get. Previously, the most basic of transmissions relied on sequences of prime numbers, mathematics being the universal language. With the discovery of alien species however, the practice had dropped almost overnight.

_Alpha numerics are the most basic communications, _Haley reminded himself. _So whoever sent this either didn't care about the recipient, or wanted as many recipients to understand it as possible. _With a beeping that signaled the end of the translation, Haley could see that it was the latter.

**Begin Transmission**

_**From: Christmas Corporation**_

_**To: N/A**_

_**Planet Christmas under attack by zerg organisms, likely led by Zergrinch. **_

_**Numbers unknown**_

_**Command and control broken down**_

_**Request aid from any source ASAP**_

_**Transmission made on 12/22/01 at 1928 hours, Standard Colonial Time**_

**End Transmission**

As it was, Haley didn't see the full message. He'd already started opening a comms link by the time the second sentence had finished. A comm. link that, unlike the transmission made by the Christmas Corporation, could be made in real time.

"Come on Berry, don't do this to me," Haley murmured. "Come on, come on…"

"Haley, this better be good."

From experience, Haley had found that talking to Major Berry was something that one tended to avoid, even via holograms. Looking like the fruit he was named after and giving the universe hell for it as a result, one didn't ask how high to jump if he told you to. You simply jumped as high as you could and prayed that he hadn't set a pit of spikes below you.

"Trust me sir, this is good," Haley said, smoothing his hair and resisting the urge to comment on how red the major's face looked (more so than usual). "Planet Christmas is under attack by the zerg."

"…and that's good _how_, exactly?"

"Argh!" Haley resisted the urge to throw his arms up into the air and instead stamped his foot. "Not good _good_. I mean good in the sense that this transmission is important."

Berry leaned back into a chair that Haley guessed cost more than he made in a year. "I guess…" he said slowly. "How do you know this?"

"Just received a transmission from the Christmas Corporation," the Commander answered, forwarding the corporation's message to Berry through warp space. "Not made to me personally though. I'm guessing the same message was fired in all directions in the hope that someone would receive it."

"It would make sense," Berry admitted, his image looking down at a terminal next to him as he read the message that his subordinate. "Planet Christmas is corporate owned. "They couldn't expect any official help apart from-…"

"The Dominion," Haley answered. "And you know as well as I do that even if it wasn't in ruins, Mengsk would act as the vulture rather than the eagle."

The Major remained silent for a moment. Finally, he spoke,

"Commander, you know that even if I did give you authorization to engage, your chances of success are next to nothing without further Alliance-…"

"Sir, the Zergrinch is leading them," Haley interrupted. "An insane Defiler whose only reason for attacking Planet Christmas is because he has something against the holiday itself. Not to mention that-…"

"Not to mention," Berry interrupted, his voice drowning Haley's, "that I could just as easily court martial you for neglection of duty."

"Neglection of duty? What the hell do you-…"

"Commander, don't take me for an imbecile," Berry smirked. "Your eyes are bloodshot, your hair beyond regulation length, you haven't shaved in weeks and if I was on the _Iron Fist _in person, I could no doubt smell something unpleasant on your breath." The Major leant back as the Commander struggled to find an answer.

"What's your stake in this Haley?" Berry asked softly. "Why the sudden change from drunkard to messiah?"

Haley was taken aback at the question. The motives of a soldier were irrelevant in the greater scheme of things, even one with his rank. It wasn't like Berry to inquire into his motives, especially since familiarity interfering with the chain of command usually ended up with someone having a bullet lodged between their eyes. What could he-…

_This isn't about me, _realized Haley suddenly. _For all he knows it's the drink that's acting on me. _A newfound respect for Berry brewing in him, Haley went on the attack.

"Tell me Major," said Haley slowly, "what did the Alliance do in the Brood War?"

Berry's gaze narrowed. "That isn't the focus of this-…"

"Nothing sir, _nothing_," Haley interrupted. "Or as close to nothing as is possible to get."

"We were caught up in other matters Commander," Berry retorted, once again looking like the fruit of his namesake. "Caught up-…"

"On the other side of the Koprulu Sector," completed Haley, raising his hands in mock defense. "Not our own fault of course, but a few might think differently."

Berry had lapsed into silence by this point, allowing the Commander to continue.

"Sir, we both joined the Alliance to make a difference," he said softly. "And given that the Zergrinch is hardly known for fielding his forces effectively, this is a case where even a single ship _can _make a difference." He locked his eyes in with Berry's. "Redemption is my stake in this sir. Not to be a messiah. But to simply be human in the face of those that aren't."

Silence gripped the ship's bridge, a silence that stemmed from more than a lack of activity in the engines. And given Berry's look, stroking his chin as if he were a sage, Haley guessed that it was the same on the Major's end as well. He certainly played the part of a sage at least, keeping those below him in a state of suspense. A suspense that was finally broken by two simple words…

"Do it."

* * *

_A/N_

_Finally got round to posting chapter 3. I've found that doing little 10-15min bits of a story can still be effective, provided that the sessions are regular. And as I'm only working on one story at a time (at least in actual writing, oneshots excluded), the system seems to work. Still, it should be noted that this is not the chapter 3 as I originally anticipated, but rather the first half of said chapter. The second half of chapter 3 is set to become chapter 4. And so on..._

_Basically, if I'd done the entire chapter in one go, it would be an obscenely long one. I've come to prefer a 2,000-4,000 word limit per chapter in multi-chaptered stories as a good average, and this chapter fits the bill. Ending it where I did, I could end the chapter on a relatively high note (as opposed to chapter 4's low note) and save me from fleshing out too many characters at once. Gives time for Dawn and Haley to sink in, allowing me to flesh out Ventrallis more in the next chapter._

_That's it for the main part-any other questions can be asked via review. As a minor note though, I made a minor note to cut down on...certain vulgarities in the story. I've come to believe that part of the package of being able to write well is to be able to sustain narrative without resorting to 'lower English'. There's a time and place for it to be sure, but while not so much a problem in this story, there are others that I probably lapsed in restraint. Anyway, just curious as to how it turned out..._

_A/N 08/21/06: Changed the date to December 22. This was the original date intended, but I misread the outline. My bad._


	4. Landfall

**StarCraft-Operation: Claws**

**Chapter 4: Landfall**

**December 22, 2501**

**Mission Clock: 00:13:09**

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

**Aurora Plain**

It was almost inappropriate really.

As 2nd Squad surged out of the _Hermes_, such a thought went through Ventrallis' mind. Not exactly the most pressing issue to deal with, but as the quartet of Dropships touched down on Christmas' surface, their plasma engines came into contact with the snow. Within seconds, vapor filled the air, hard, rocky surface being exposed as a result.

_And I thought we were landing in permafrost._

In practice, it made little difference. Planet Christmas was covered in ice and snow one way or another, the only differences in its surface being what lay under it. Well, that wasn't completely true. There was the occasional depression or plateau, but for the most part, the planet was featureless, the weight of the ice sheets overcoming tectonic movement in most cases. Had it been located closer to Polaris Beta, the planet would have been a water world.

_And it soon will be at this rate, _thought the Staff Sergeant as the four Dropships lifted off, leaving puddles in their wake. _We've just touched down and we're already inflicting collateral damage._

The Raider shook his head. He had more important things to worry about than leaving marks on such a 'pristine' surface and leading his men was among them. Ventrallis was attached to 2nd Squad, Dawn leading the platoon while attached to 3rd Squad while 1st Squad was led by Sergeant Jennings. At the top of the chain of command was Granger, calling the shots from his Goliath.

Everything seemed to be in order, the Raiders ready to move. _Almost too eager_, Ventrallis thought, considering that the troops had already started pacing around, muttering things like "give me something to shoot" and "where are those god damn critters?" The Staff Sergeant shook his head. Those that followed Captain Raynor were universally less…trigger happy than their counterparts in the armed forces of the Dominion or, heaven forbid, the Confederacy, but that didn't stop them from wearing their hearts on their shoulders. Or rather their armor, ranging from "your arse here" on the tips of their boots to "my little friend" painted on one of the C-14 Gauss Rifles.

_It'll be the death of us and I seem to be the only one who knows it._

Ventrallis had never been one to speak his mind. It wasn't his place to, and he knew it. He was here to do a job and letting emotion surface in the middle of jobs was a recipe for trouble. The Brood War had demonstrated that-true, Kerrigan had the personality of a succubus but it was still her minions that carried out her will. Minions that had no use for will or emotion, let alone the 

ability to understand the concept. And while idealists might argue as to how that was a weakness, Ventrallis and the rest of the Raiders had seen enough to realize the truth.

Not that it showed, since Jennings and his boys had already lit up cigars…

"Commander, give me a sit-rep," came a voice over the radio.

Ventrallis quickly realized that it was Raynor contacting Granger, either one of them having seen fit to link the feed to the radios of the platoons other officers. Given the sour look on Dawn's face, that seemed to be the case.

_She should really have her visor polarized,_ Ventrallis thought to himself, noticing the lack of reflection on Dawn's visor. Given the amount of snow, Planet Christmas had an exceptionally high albedo and even through a visor, damage to facial skin tissue was likely, especially around the eyes. In the end, he decided against it.

After all, it wasn't his place to point out such things to his superiors…

"Landfall has been made captain, no problems," Granger answered.

"Acknowledged." There was a brief silence while Ventrallis continued to look towards Granger, ready to receive orders and follow them.

"Ok," said Raynor eventually. "Based on your current location and from what Horner's been able to ascertain from the _Hyperion_, Christmas Village should be about five kilometers northeast of your-…"

"Five kilometers!?" burst out Jennings. "You expect us to march five kilometers to engage those critters!?"

"Yes Sergeant, I expect you to embark on a nice leisurely stroll to engage the zerg rather than dropping right in the middle of them and be torn to shreds," said the captain, sounding unusually irritated. "It would make a good show of course, but it would be a bit unfair on your men to make them join you in the circle of hell reserved for imbeciles."

Jennings murmured something under his breath that as far as Ventrallis could tell, was related to Raynor having questionable parenthood. He chose to ignore it. It was unlikely, but if the Raiders' leader wanted to discipline the Sergeant further, he would do it in his own manner.

"The bad news about our situation is that the village is already under zerg attack," Raynor continued. "The good news is that based on GIS analysis, you'll be attacking from an elevated position."

Ventrallis didn't really see much advantage there. There were exceptions to the rule, but the zerg could move over virtually any surface with little loss of speed, if any. Attacking from above would give the Raiders a greater field of fire, but without any significant long range weaponry apart from some mortars and the Goliath, any advantage they'd have would be minimal. Regardless, this was hardly the time or place to be questioning orders.

"Affirmative Captain, moving out," said Granger, cutting the link. Ventrallis watched as the former magistrate turned the walker to face the thirty or so troops below him. It was an older model, lacking the upgraded weapon systems that the UED had brought with them when they'd invaded the sector, but an impressive sight nonetheless. Twin 20mm smoothbore autocannons and Hellfire anti-air scatter missiles tended to convey that impression.

"Well…this takes me back," said Granger eventually, looking down over those under him both in command and height. "But we can get to the pomp and circumstance _after _we retake the village."

"Like you care," Ventrallis heard Dawn murmur.

The Goliath turned to face her. "Actually, I _do_ care lieutenant. I care because the Christmas Corporation has a paycheck waiting for me. And if you do anything to jeopardize that…well, consider the fact that I'm in a bipedal mechanized water with a shit load of ammo."

Unlike Dawn, who was murmuring something about Granger being something that certain words from the darker side of the English language described, Ventrallis set about following the Commander's lead. Not that that would be difficult given the slow pace at which the Goliath moved, but there were proper formations for infantry-walker support and Ventrallis wanted to ensure that 2nd Squad followed them. Privates Reynolds and Briscoe would deal with the mortars, complementing the auto-turret fire that would come from 1st and 3rd Squads.

To his shame, Ventrallis' mind was elsewhere however, namely on Granger's words. The idea of the Christmas Corporation giving him a paycheck…surely the Commander realized that the chances of that were next to nothing. It wasn't as widely recognized as their ability to end life, but the zerg were equally capable of inflicting structural damage. No doubt Santa Claus would want to show some kind of gratitude to the Raiders, but the chances of him giving a paycheck, let alone one to a single soldier, was somewhere between slim and nil.

_Maybe Raynor sweet-talked him, _the NCO thought, ignoring Jennings' complaints as to how slow the platoon was moving. Somehow he doubted it though. Raynor had never been a particular sweet talker and while he had once been friends with the former magistrate, Ventrallis doubted that a single discussion could convince Granger to take on a job without the promise of payment. The man was a mercenary for god's sake!

_Best not to think about it, _Ventrallis told himself. _After all, it's not my place to._

* * *

**Mission Clock: 01:46:20**

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

**Snowflake Hill**

It had been the longest hour and a half in her life and it didn't make Dawn feel any better to know that people were dying in the meantime. There were times that discretion was the better part of valor, but when it came to the zerg, discretion went right out the airlock. The zerg wouldn't know the meaning of discretion even if it bit them on the tail, so why try to attack them with it?

_Then again, it isn't really caution,_ Dawn thought to herself. _It's due to that overgrown biped._

Dawn had great respect for the Goliath as a vehicle, its versatility and fire support proving essential in many operations involving infantry, not to mention that it basically functioned as a mobile anti-air platform. Its speed however, left something to be desired. And it was right now that speed was needed.

_Damm it Granger, can't you make this thing go any faster? _the lieutenant wondered, calling her squad to a halt to let the walker catch up to them. _Don't you want your paycheck? _She found herself stopping altogether as the walker passed, looking up towards its backside and glaring for reasons that had nothing to do with the reflected sunlight.

_It would be so easy. So easy to grab an RPG and shove a grenade right up your-…_

"Ma'am, visual contact has been established, over."

Dawn blinked, Ventrallis having interrupted her fantasy.

"Say again, Sergeant?"

"We've established visual contact between the village and our current position," said Ventrallis. "We're about a few hundred meters ahead of you."

"Affirmative," said the lieutenant, signing off. She turned to face the other Raiders.

"Keep in formation with the Commander," she said, not bothering to reference Granger in the tone she reserved for lowlifes such as him. "I'll be joining Ventrallis."

Ignoring Jennings' complaints about babysitting and Granger's comments about not doing anything stupid, Dawn shot ahead. Frustrated by the lack of progress, she'd convinced the Commander to send 2nd Squad up ahead to establish visual contact with the village. Her new rate of movement was a great relief to her, the mechanized support of her power suit carrying her across the snow at a speed that would have been unthinkable a few minutes ago. Only when she came across 2nd Squad did she realize exactly what CMC armor was capable of.

"That was quick ma'am," said Ventrallis, saluting with one hand and giving his superior his field binoculars with the other.

"You gave me an excuse to get away from Granger," Dawn murmured as she lay down on the snow like the rest of 2nd Squad, looking down over the crest of the hill. "So what have we got?"

Ventrallis remained silent. Actions spoke louder than words after all, and it were actions that Dawn was viewing. Actions involving the zerg that made the medic's stomach turn.

Ignoring the irony of that little fact, Dawn continued to survey Christmas Village. It wasn't much, consisting of rows of prefabricated buildings, only a few of which were multi-storied. Establishing structures on Planet Christmas was difficult due to the permafrost. Ice is an unusual substance as it's less dense than its liquid form, which ensures less structural stability. As such, it was far easier to construct simple, easy to build dwellings and simply replace them when they became a hazard. The Christmas Corporation may have been founded with a sense of altruism, but it still had to be financially viable.

The drawback however, was that pre-fab buildings didn't guarantee that much structural stability from things on the surface either. The village was roughly thirty degrees north of the equator in terms of latitude-far enough away to ensure that its inhabitants didn't wake up to find themselves in the middle of a lake (the planet's equatorial ice sometimes thawed) but also not too close to the poles to make every day a cold one in hell. However, no-one had considered the zerg and with the numerous wrecked buildings and the blood on the snow, it showed.

"Still some resistance though," Dawn murmured, watching as sporadic gunfire came from the upper stories of the more sturdy buildings, the occasional Zergling or Hydraulics falling to the projectiles. She turned away from the view to face her fellow Raiders, knowing that to head 

down now would be suicide. "What's up with the guns? Isn't the corporation based on giving presents and all that?"

Someone mentioned that some people liked having guns as presents but Dawn chose to ignore him, not wanting to give such a person the time of day. She was more interested in someone murmuring about corporate security.

"What was that?" she asked curiously to the Raider who said it. He turned to face her, his name tag and rank insignia marking him as Corporal Boulton.

"International Corporate Security Act of 2490," he said. "During the Guild Wars, many independent mining companies got caught up in the crossfire. It was therefore worked into sector law that all employers give their workers the means to defend themselves on isolated worlds."

"But who'd want to attack Planet Christmas?" Dawn asked. "It's in the middle of nowhere, makes relatively little financial gain per annum and-…"

"Lightly defended," said a voice over the radio, a voice accompanied by the heavy plodding of iron legs. "And therefore a vulnerable target to attack." Sighing, Dawn glanced back, seeing Granger and the Raiders around him approaching the crest of the hill.

Ventrallis rose and raised a hand to salute but Dawn slapped it down, murmuring about this not being the time for pomp and circumstance. The Staff Sergeant glanced at her but remained silent. The Commander however, was not so compliant.

"Something wrong lieutenant?" he asked, the tone of his voice suggesting that it would be wise to err towards caution.

"Yes sir, there is something wrong," answered Dawn. "What's wrong is that the zerg are running rampant through Christmas Village and the only way we can stop them is to-…"

"Men, establish a firing line, fire on command," said Granger. "2nd Squad, begin mortar fire."

"What!?" Dawn exclaimed. "We have to get in there and save those people, not to mention that the use of the mortars could inflict-…"

"Collateral damage, I know," said Granger irritably. "But look at the shape of the buildings."

Dawn looked, or at least tried to. The zerg running around the place made it difficult to concentrate on anything else.

"Christmas Village was pre-designed and the narrow rows of buildings reflect that," said Granger. "We go in and we'll be caught in a crossfire of claws and needle spines."

"I guess…" said Dawn eventually. "But surely we can-…"

"What we _can _do," said Granger, "is draw the zerg out. They're savage, but they'll identify us as the greater threat and surge up the hill to engage us."

Dawn could think of a dozen potential holes in Granger's plan, such as that the Zergrinch wasn't exactly known for logic, there were no Overlords in the sky so the zerg's chain of command would be faulty and that even with the snow, the zerg could still surge up the hill faster than human infantry, upon which the proposed method of engagement was no doubt based. The terrans of the Koprulu Sector had been fighting each other for so long that their tactics were based around dealing with human foes. Tactics that the two recent wars had proven were not as useful against alien species. Still, she could appreciate the logic in Granger's plan, even if it required the cold heartedness that mercenary scum like him possessed. Cold heartedness that she 

believed was the purview of alien species such as the zerg and should not be embraced under any circumstances.

Of course, when the first mortar rounds landed amongst said aliens, it was all academic anyway…

* * *

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas,**

**Tunundrun Plateau**

"_My forces are very frightful,_

_And I find your screams delightful._

_There's no-one to whom you can turn,_

_Let it burn, let it burn, let it burn!"_

If the Zergrinch had possessed even a shred of sanity, it would have realized that singing non-sensically to itself in the middle of nowhere was perhaps not the best use of one time. Its minions were incapable of understanding the basics between rhyming couplets and the only one who could was locked away in a stasis cell.

Santa Claus...

Bearing its teeth in what amounted to a smile, the Defiler made its way once again to the protoss stasis cell that it had recovered, courtesy of some protoss bandits that had come afoul of the creature. It had come as a surprise to the Zergrinch that such a species would resort to simple piracy, but times had changed for both of the xel'naga's greatest creations. And with the protoss home world and the bulk of their empire in ruins, the Zergrinch supposed that even the Firstborn could crack.

"All insignificant though…" the Zergrinch hissed as it looked at the pitiful creature inside the cell. He couldn't hear him of course, sensory deprivation being part of the package that was suspended animation. However, such scientific principles were beyond the Zergrinch's understanding and besides, it had far more important things to worry about…

"You three," it barked towards the shuttle the human had been flying. "Any luck yet?"

"_No, lord 'grinch. Not yet."_

The 'grinch, as its hairy little Goblins called him, were rummaging through Santa's shuttle, looking for what he desired most. Well, almost. Technically what the Zergrinch desired most was the eradication of the heresy that was Christmas and the taint that Santa had left upon the universe. Still, that didn't mean that he couldn't enjoy the benefits of his attack.

_An attack that's completely unopposed, _the Zergrinch thought to itself smugly. _Obviously the humans have realized the futility of standing against-…_

"_Lord Zergrinch, we're under attack!"_

It took a few seconds for the Zergrinch to realize that he'd received a psionic signal and a few seconds after that to establish a mental connection. Its mind shattered after its severing from the 

Overmind, the Zergrinch could only communicate through its minions directly rather than relying on Overlords or Queens to enact secondary communication. Given the relatively small size of its brood this wasn't an issue mostly, but sometimes…

"_Yes?" _it asked, having established the link with one of the Wargs at Christmas Village.

"_Not as yet, great leader. We have encountered resistance from an unidentified band of terrans. We request-…"_

"**Well then destroy them!" **the Zergrinch shouted, not knowing nor caring that it had inadvertently severed the tenuous connection and was effectively talking to itself. **"Melt the snow with their blood, scatter their ashes to the four winds and-…"**

"_Lord 'grinch?"_

The Zergrinch spun around, looking down upon the three Goblins that had been searching the shuttle. In an instant, it forgot its troubles at Christmas Village and turned its mind back to the important things.

"Well?" the Defiler asked impatiently. "Did you find them?"

"_No, lord 'grinch," _the Goblins said as one. _"We searched all through the shuttle and-…"_

The Goblins never got to finish their sentence. After all, even when speech stems purely from the mind, it's hard to talk when you're lying on the ground bleeding from a gaping wound in your side.

Not giving its minions a second thought, the Zergrinch turned to stare at the stasis cell, toying with the idea of passing similar judgment on the one that it had passed on the two creatures lying in the snow. Such an act would be jumping the gun, so to speak, but the Zergrinch's rage made it hard to keep that in mind.

_This is unacceptable, _it thought to itself. _Here I am, trying to save the galaxy from the evils of Christmas and elitism, and I have a bunch of humans who show up like cockroaches. _It smiled at the simile. From what little it knew, cockroaches were some kind of bug that grew on the terrans' home world, infamous for their ability to keep bouncing back despite humanity's best efforts to exterminate them.

_But it will be different here, _the Zergrinch told itself. _Those who defy me may be cockroaches, but they are not invincible. They will be squashed like the bugs they are!_

The Zergrinch let out a hiss, turned away from Santa and looked southwards. Its success was inevitable…

…even if the shuttle turned out not to have any chocolate chip cookies in it.

* * *

**Mission Clock: 02:00:07**

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

**Snowflake Hill**

"Critters to your left!"

"Maintaining suppressing fire!"

"Crap, I'm out! Toss me a clip!"

"Again!? Jesus Clarke, you shoot like my little sister!"

"Aw stuff it up your-…"

Ventrallis fired.

He didn't shoot Private Clarke of course, regardless of how much he desired to. What he actually did was unload an adamantine slug from his C-141 AC Gauss Rifle into the skull of a Hydraulics which had reached the Raiders' firing line and was honing in on the kid from behind. The result was an explosion of dark blood and…other stuff, most of which landed on Clarke.

"Aw, gross," he exclaimed, vainly trying to scrape the blood off.

"Just be grateful that it's the zerg's blood and not your own," murmured the Staff Sergeant, reloading the chamber for the rifle's secondary fire mode.

"That's easy for you to say, you've got your own-…"

Corporal McNab began moving towards the Private but Ventrallis held up one hand to stop him, still holding his AC in the other. The UED had brought some nifty technology to the Koprulu Sector and the C-141 AC Gauss Rifle was part of that. Featuring a more cylindrical design, greater accuracy and a secondary fire mode for adamantine slugs, only a select few were permitted access to the weapon. As per his rank of Staff Sergeant, Ventrallis was one of those individuals.

_And also an individual who has to maintain order, _thought the Raider as he told Clarke to shut up and resume fire or settle with breathing out of another hole. Not the most original threat in the world, but considering the Raiders current situation, the NCO was more than willing to sacrifice originality for functionality.

Still, Ventrallis had to admit that the Raiders situation wasn't as dire as he'd anticipated it would be before the firing line had been set up. Truth be told, it wasn't dire at all. And a quarter of an hour later, not to mention a line of zerg carcasses at the bottom of the hill, Ventrallis was beginning to see why.

_Did the zerg abandon their tactics overnight or something? _he wondered as he slammed home another clip, Briscoe and Reynolds meanwhile sending another pair of explosive shells down into the killing zone. He knew from experience that although the zerg relied mainly on numbers in battle, a great deal of their success was due to their coordination. You never saw one zerg get in the way of one another, always moving as part of a combined whole. Here however, it seemed that it was each critter for itself, all eager to get to the firing line on their own terms. The result was that each Zergling and Hydraulics would be targeted individually by each of the firing line's three sections.

Ventrallis had begun to realize why this was the case. The Zergrinch's Brood was small and without a proper chain of command. It had given thought to the conditions on the planet seemingly, considering how the critters they were facing here were far hairier than what he was used to and therefore able to store more body heat, but it didn't appear to possess any higher strains such as Overlords. The zerg following their leader's directives, but the intricacies of such directives were either being lost in translation or simply not there at all.

_At this rate we'll soon be the ones doing the advancing, _thought Ventrallis, deciding that it wasn't worth the effort to break up Clarke and McNab from their argument as to whose kill it was as to a particular Zergling. _Best not to run in of course but-…_

"All squads prepare to advance."

Ventrallis blinked, an action that was seemingly mirrored all along the firing line given the sudden drop in the rate of fire. Granger's Goliath was the only exception, continuing to blaze away with its autocannons. Still, since it had been Granger who had given the order that was perhaps to be expected.

"Second Squad, maintain mortar fire, creeping barrage technique," Granger continued. "First and Third Squads, move in advancing line. Second Squad will move up to the line on command."

"Commander is this wise?" came another voice over the radio, one that Ventrallis recognized as belonging to Dawn. "The zerg are still down there and-…"

"More zerg could be on their way," interrupted the mercenary. "And that being the case, it's best to move in on the town. It'll give us a better defensive position and we can link up with the Corporation's security staff."

Ventrallis turned his radio off, knowing that Dawn would contest the point. Personally he didn't have a problem with Granger's plan. It was tactically sound, the practice of creeping barrages having been perfected centuries ago in one of Old Earth's many wars and while the zerg thrived in close quarters, the structures would also provide good cover against any heavier strains the Zergrinch might bring to bear.

Linking the mortar's trajectory systems with his suit's targeting software, Ventrallis began to co-ordinate his squad's artillery, watching the battlefield through his HUD. The zerg continued to throw themselves at the Raiders and for a moment, the Staff Sergeant wondered if Granger's move was tactically sound, the distance the zerg had to travel to reach the humans lessening steadily. However, he soon realized that the issue of distance was overshadowed by the regular mortar fire and that the lesser the distance, the more accurate the Raiders' fire was. What was once akin to Boxing Day shoot had become more alike the type of shooting gallery found at a carnival.

"Man this sucks," Clarke moaned as the Raiders reached the edge of the village, zerg carcasses strewn around both in front and behind them. "We're stuck up here doing nothing-…"

"Nothing!?" exclaimed Reynolds. "We're shoveling mortar shells like-…"

"…while the rest of the guys play shooting gallery."

"So?" asked McNab. "It's not as if you could hit them anyway."

"What do you know you goody two-…"

"We all have our roles to play," interrupted Ventrallis, now using his field binoculars, but making it clear through his tone of voice that they were lucky for it. "And that should be enough for you."

"Yeah? And first Squad charging like a bunch of yokels part of that?"

It took Ventrallis a second to work out what Clarke had said. It took him another second to find 1st Squad through his field binoculars, charging like a bunch of yokels ahead of the advancing line that Granger had set up. And given the exclamations of "Jennings, what the hell are you doing?" and "Get back on the line Sergeant!" Ventrallis doubted that charging into Christmas Village unsupported was part of the Commander's plan.

_This is interesting… _thought Ventrallis as he continued to watch 1st Squad running down the main street towards the town square. _I always knew that Jennings was unstable, but it seems that his men…_

The Staff Sergeant trailed off, courtesy of losing sight of his less stable counterpart and his men. Not due to the angle that he was watching them from, but rather due to not being able to see through Hydralisks. Hydralisks that had suddenly burst out of the ground and launched a volley of needle spines from their carapace, sending Jennings and his men diving for cover…and thus easy targets for the Hydralisks to close in with their scythes.

Ventrallis guessed that the Hydralisks had been left behind as what essentially amounted to reserves, ready to emerge should the zerg be forced to retreat into the village. They'd clearly been biding their time and given the trap that they'd sprung on Jennings, it had paid off. At least, until a certain Goliath began opening fire, 20mm rounds tearing through man and monster alike. The town square had been a logical place to lay an ambush, but it also left the zerg exposed.

It was over in seconds.

"Sir? What happened?" asked McNab, fully the officer he was meant to be.

Ventrallis looked through the field binoculars. Granger had just wiped out the last remnants of the zerg, but also at the expense of all of 1st Squad. He knew that it wasn't his place to question orders, but still…

The NCO shook it off. _The Commander carried out an action that destroyed the last of the zerg, as per our mission, _he told himself. _It isn't my place to question whether the side effects could have been averted._

"Sir?" asked McNab, this time more forcefully, Clarke, Reynolds and Briscoe having walked up to him. "What happened?"

Ventrallis remained silent for awhile longer before turning to face his squad, lowering the binoculars. He knew what had happened, and for all their faults, his men deserved to know what he did.

"We won the battle," he said. "And that's all that matters."


	5. Belief

**StarCraft-Operation: Claws**

**Chapter 5: Belief**

**December 23, 2501**

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

**Christmas Village**

_Christ this planet's cold._

It was a thought that ran through Alexander Granger's mind, but currently dealing with a dozen other issues, the cold barely registered. True, the sun had gone down, there was no light in the sky but the stars and the wind was picking up, but the Commander walked down the streets of Christmas Village like someone who knew that Christmas was coming and that there was nothing to spoil it.

That was what allowed Granger to withstand the freezing temperatures and the wind blowing against the few areas of skin that he'd left exposed. The knowledge that Christmas was coming but that there were forces at work that not only stood poised to ruin it, but also to ensure that he didn't even live to experience the delights it brought.

_Forces at work? Right, like the zerg qualify for _that.

Sighing, the former magistrate sat down by a flaming barrel, savoring the sensation of heat. Fire had been tamed long ago back on Earth, long before humanity had come to rule their world. Even now, in the far future and sixty thousand light years from their homeworld, man took comfort in the presence of flame. A reminder of home perhaps? Or simply from the universal solace that the flame brought to the beings of a dark and often lonely universe?

Granger didn't care. His mind could not be put at ease by the flame, a force that had just as much potential for death and destruction as it did for hope and life. And in light of the fact that there were beings in the galaxy that could inflict death and destruction on a scale greater than even that of a force of nature, he didn't even care about the shortcoming.

Suffice to say, the zerg assault was on everyone's mind.

Silently, the Commander stood and began walking again. He tried focusing on other things, such as how the Christmas Corporation was going to pay him for his services when their loading docks and the merchandize at them had been completely destroyed and their settlement not far from that level of destruction. While the zerg had been bred to be methodical killing machines, collateral damage was not unheard of.

_It's going to take months, if not years to rebuild after all this, _Granger noted, glancing towards a group of Raiders and office workers alike huddled around another barrel, just like the one the mercenary had been at not long ago. Just like the barrels all around the town in fact, the buildings heating systems not only damaged beyond repair but due to their poor structural integrity, a fire hazard.

Granger had no doubt that the Christmas Corporation had insurance. But did insurance cover mad zerg going on a rampage on ice worlds? True, the insurance companies of the Koprulu Sector had had two years to develop new policies, but given the amount of destruction the zerg were capable of, the Commander doubted that they'd be in a hurry to develop them.

_Good business sense. Just like what I used to have…_

Granger stopped short, a voice of reason having finally surfaced. Here he was, marveling at the Zergrinch's handiwork rather than focusing on obtaining payment.

_Got to get my priorities straight. I was _hired _to do this job, just like all the other jobs I've had since leaving the Raiders._

Of course, he remembered bitterly, it had been the Raiders that had pulled him back into this. He'd left them over a year ago after the raid on the Dylarian Shipyards, not wanting to go on yet another crusade for whatever righteous nonsense Raynor had got into his head after abandoning Mengsk. It hadn't been a decision he'd undertaken lightly-he respected Raynor, had considered him a friend and despite the current circumstances, still did.

However, Raynor was driven by belief and Granger had come to see it during his time with the Sons of Korhal. It had been belief that had carried the former marshal through the Guild Wars on Mar Sara and the lack of it that had made him a workaholic after his wife and son had died. Granger had been trained as an officer and administrator and set stock in more solid things than fickle human emotions. They'd both seen what had become of Mengsk's belief, becoming the very evil that he'd been fighting against.

Granger had seen the truth that day. The truth that the nature of the universe was that it was every man for himself and that things like friendship and belief were self imposed psychological barriers to prevent humanity's degeneration. The price of civilization as it was. And with Raynor's refusal to see it, insisting on leading the Raiders to what Granger had realized would be their deaths or worse, the price had been a friendship that could never be on the same level that it had once been.

_And so what? _Granger asked himself. _What does it mean to me?_

Ever since he'd left the Raiders over a year ago, the answer had been "very little." The establishment of the Terran Dominion's rule had not been as smooth as the state controlled media presented and there was high demand for skilled soldiers and officers from those who resisted Mengsk's rule and from the Dominion itself. Granger knew himself to be a good leader and as time went by, many others did too. He didn't know exactly when the last vestiges of his regret about abandoning Raynor and his followers had evaporated, but given all the action he'd seen during the time following the incident, not to mention the financial rewards, it couldn't have taken very long.

But why would it come back _now_?

In truth, the former magistrate already knew. He'd spent time leading battles against his fellow men, battles that were ultimately inevitable due to the fact that every human being had the potential to not only be a jackass, but also attract other jackasses and make life hell for the more rational people in a process known as war. Yet here, on Planet Christmas, it was the zerg who 

were at fault, a species which never even thought about doing something different than drenching the stars in the blood of their enemies. And in this case, their enemies were a bunch of people who had never done anything to warrant what the zerg had brought. Overly idealistic perhaps, but that didn't warrant punishment.

This was different. There was no middle ground in this conflict, but rather a set playing field, a fight with one side clearly the aggressor and another the innocent victim. The only jackass in all this was the Zergrinch and due to being insane, would never be able to understand that.

Hatred began to flow through the Commander. These were unprofessional emotions but despite his best efforts, he couldn't suppress them. And it wasn't made any easier when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Someone who was unbothered by the cold, equipped with nothing but a holstered C-7 Gauss Pistol. Someone who was the last person he wanted to see.

"Hello sir," said Lieutenant Jacqueline Dawn. "I was wondering if we could have a quick chat."

* * *

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas,**

**Tunundrun Plateau**

If someone had been brave and/or foolhardy enough to be in close proximity to the Zergrinch, he or she would have probably come to the conclusion that it was pissed. Nothing definite about this theory, but given its rapid slithering up and down the snow, a hiss being released every few seconds and a pile of Goblin bodies, it was certainly a theory that had merit.

Of course, if such an observer was a telepath and managed to probe the Defiler's mind past the layers of insanity and shattered thought processes due to the destruction of the Overmind, a theory wouldn't be required. Such a telepath would realize that the Zergrinch _was _enraged and the best thing to do would be to get the hell out of dodge. All things considered, it was a miracle that Santa was still in an intact stasis cell and that the pile of bodies wasn't higher.

Well, at least the former was a miracle.

_Curse them, _the Zergrinch thought. _Curse them all! I hate them! I'll rip their skulls from their spines, carve out their innards and scatter their bones to the winds! All while they're still alive!_

The creature wasn't referring to anyone in particular, but rather every single human left on Planet Christmas. It had enough sense to realize that Christmas Village must have received reinforcements from an outside source, but having left his force to its own devices, it hadn't been able to ascertain the origin of said force or its size.

_It doesn't matter. I'll rip their skulls from their…_

The Zergrinch trailed off, suspecting that it may have been repeating itself. Deciding that that wasn't an effective use of one's time, it began to consider its options.

The terrans would no doubt want to remove the zerg from the face of the planet. The Zergrinch was here to cleanse the galaxy of the blasphemy that was Christmas and given their love of the holiday, humanity was a race of heretics as far as it could tell. Righteousness would prevail of 

course, but that did not mean that the Zergrinch could relax. The attacking force had been strong enough to liberate Christmas Village, but that still didn't give an estimation of its size.

_But that doesn't matter, _the Defiler reminded itself. _They've experienced a victory, which will at least give them a sense of momentum and confidence. And considering that they'll want to celebrate Christmas without my shadow looming over them, they'll seek me out before the holiday comes…_

Although the Zergrinch was unaware of the intricacies of human time keeping, it at least understood that Christmas had not yet arrived, but soon would.

_I'm still in the fight, _the Zergrinch reminded itself. _I'll meet those deluded fools in battle and I'll meet them on _my _terms. I'll cleanse this world of their filth, destroy Christmas and have all the chocolate chip cookies that I want!_

The creature lifted its head towards the night sky and let out a hiss of…what? Pride? Defiance? A declaration of war? It didn't matter. It was the Zergrinch, leader of the mighty and the bane of the zerg's enemies.

_After all, the humans don't even know where I am…_

* * *

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas,**

_**Behemoth**_**-class Battlecruiser **_**Hyperion**_

"Sir, I know where the Zergrinch is!"

A second after the declaration, Raynor looked up from his game gear to the _Hyperion_'s pilot. A second after that, the words **Game Over **appeared on his screen. Somehow, the former marshal was aware of both declarations.

"You better be on the money Matt. I was on the last level of _Space Ranger_."

Horner went to say something, seemingly thought better of it, then headed down from his pilot's chair to the star map.

"Trust me sir. Have I let you down before?"

Raynor supposed he had to give him that. Horner's over enthusiasm sometimes got to him, but if that was the price he had to pay for someone who could perform an emergency warp jump with a Battlecruiser and leave it intact, he'd gladly pay it.

Raynor watched as the lieutenant adjusted the settings of the star map, the images of Mar Sara and TarKossia fading from view. The former marshal couldn't help but wince, having been looking at both longingly until a few hours ago. The removal of both planets from his sight had symbolism to him, each in their own way. And neither of them was pleasant.

"This is the surface of Planet Christmas around Christmas Village," said Horner, gesturing towards a 3D image that had appeared. "Coupled together from our GIS systems."

Raynor nodded silently, looking over the display. Christmas Village was situated in one of the corners, the only feature in what was low lying land apart from Snowflake Hill and-…

"And here," continued Horner, "is the Tunundrun Plateau. Site of the Zergrinch."

Horner pressed a few more buttons, the display dissolving to form a detailed view of the plateau. Raynor raised an eyebrow. Apart from the slight raise in elevation analysis, there was no difference and certainly nothing to suggest that the zerg had chosen it as their base of operations.

"That's very nice Matt, but what am I meant to be seeing?" the captain asked, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. He hadn't died on the last level of _Space Ranger _just to have a lesson in geography.

"This," said Horner simply, pressing another button.

In the greater scheme of things, the landform didn't change much. Truth be told, it didn't change at all, but rather received an addition. A collection of red images scattered across the plateau, standing in contrast to the green wireframe of the topographic image.

"Heat signatures…" Raynor murmured.

Had the captain been looking at Horner, he would have noticed that he'd switched to his "I wanna save the universe!" persona. Still, the excitement in Horner's voice more than made up for the lack of imagery.

"I dispatched a number of observation drones after the battle," he explained. "I wanted to see if there were any stragglers we could put down or save, depending on the species, along with getting an up-to-date look at the terrain."

"Doesn't the _Hyperion _suffice in that regard?"

"Well yeah…but better safe than sorry, right?"

Raynor supposed he had to give him that point, though he was too intent on continuing to look at the display to acknowledge it. The images were blurry, but the zerg were the only possible denizens of the plateau, if only for the amount of body heat being generated. Situated a thousand meters above sea level (or "ice level" to be more accurate), the temperatures would soon freeze any exposed human at such an altitude. Not impossible to survive up there of course, but it would require proper insulation. To generate that much body heat would mean a high radiation content.

The Zergrinch was insane, but not hopelessly so. It probably realized the tactical advantages of the high ground and from what Raynor had heard from the ground team, the Zerglings and Hydralisks all possessed thin layers of hair, no doubt specially bred to help them function more effectively in the frigid conditions.

"Good work Matt," said Raynor eventually, turning away from the map and heading towards the comms. Console. "I'll send the data down to Granger."

"You sure that's wise?"

Raynor stopped short, turning around to face Horner.

"Something wrong Matt?"

"No sir…" said the lieutenant slowly, his features tightened into what resembled a lemon sucking grimace. "I'm just not all that eager to have another _friendly fire _incident."

The former marshal remained silent for a moment, his visage mirroring that of his subordinate. Finally he spoke.

"I'll take that under advertisement lieutenant. Dismissed."

Horner seemed to be on the burst of going on a vocal tirade, but drew back, the only lasting sign of his shock being his eyes, having widened considerably. Eventually however, he gave a quick salute and headed off the bridge, walking far faster than what was required.

Raynor sighed after the bridge door hissed shut, lying down in the captain's chair and picking out a bottle of _Scotty Bolger's Old No. 8 Whisky_, taking a sip from the bottle itself. He'd cut down on the grog after Horner first reported on the Zergrinch more than a week ago, but even so…

'_Sides, if it wasn't for the drink, I probably wouldn't be here anyway,_ Raynor reminded himself. He couldn't quite remember exactly how Horner had convinced him to travel to Planet Christmas, but suspected that he'd mentioned "mother fucking Mengsk" as he called him. Still, given the headache he'd woken up with the day after the course had been set, it could have been anything. Taking another sip of the whisky, Raynor reflected on what Matt had said.

The lieutenant's reluctance to associate with Granger was understandable considering what had transpired. Raynor had read the reports from Dawn and Ventrallis and while Dawn had been a bit more…eloquent in her writing, they'd both stated as to how Granger had wiped out First Squad in a barrage of autocannon fire, the only saving grace being that he'd wiped out a group of Hydralisks too and that due to said Hydralisks, First Squad was as good as dead anyway. In the end, citing Granger as a tactical necessity and that Jennings charging in was a case of plain stupidity, Raynor had decided to keep Granger with the Raiders and not take action against him.

_But what does that make me then? _Raynor wondered, putting the whiskey down and closing his eyes as he lay back in the chair. He'd never believed that the ends justified the means but if he was ignoring Granger's negative actions in favor of his positive ones, then perhaps he was conforming to that belief anyway.

Belief…it seemed to do men more harm than good and Raynor knew it. It was belief that had carried him away from Mengsk, only to be without direction. And when he finally _did _get a sense of direction, all he'd done was lead the Raiders to Char on a futile attempt to save Kerrigan and lose the bulk of them in the process.

Raynor knew that despite agreeing to Planet Christmas, it wasn't due to belief, but simply something that could keep him occupied while he figured out what direction he wanted to take in his life, if any. He'd seen what belief could do to people and wanted no part of it.

_Is that what Mengsk realized too? _wondered Raynor. He knew that Mengsk may have believed in something more than simply the downfall of the Confederacy when he'd founded the Sons of Korhal but clearly it had evaporated by the time he'd arrived at Tarsonis. Willing to sacrifice anything and everything to achieve his own goals.

Raynor had been running low on belief since the end of the Brood War, he knew that. What he didn't know was whether him letting Granger get away with the actions he did had set him on the same path…

* * *

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas,**

**Christmas Village**

"You immoral bastard! You selfish, arrogant piece of-…"

Dawn slowly stopped in her tirade, noticing that Granger's eyes were beginning to glaze over, her own eyes narrowing in response. She'd been building up for this moment for over a day and was damned if Granger ignored her.

"Sir, are you even listening to me!?" she yelled. "I know that you've been hiding from me ever since-…"

"Lieutenant, I have not been hiding from you and I _am _listening," interrupted the Commander. "It's just that it's hard to make out what you're saying when all your effort is going into volume rather than articulation.

It was practically impossible for blood to rush to the skin in such cold conditions but somehow Dawn managed it. Rage was a powerful force to be sure. However, she was willing to cut back on it if it meant that Granger could receive her message.

"Alright sir, I'll articulate," she said slowly, beginning to pace around him, like one of the jungle cats of Old Earth. "I'll articulate all right…"

By this stage she'd orbited Granger once, back to where she had started. The conversation however, would progress, even if it was more of a lecture.

"I noticed a few facts yesterday when we retook Christmas Village," said Dawn slowly.

"Oh God, here we go…"

"Fact!" she yelled. "You're an incompetent asshole. Fact! You're a heartless bastard. Fact! Both of these observations stem from what you let happen to First Squad, not to mention-…"

"Oh lay off it Dawn!" yelled Granger, his frustration matching his subordinate's anger. "First Squad died because Jennings was an idiot and led his-…"

"Jennings is dead!" exclaimed Dawn, as if it were sacrilege to insult the deceased.

"Then he's a dead idiot."

Dawn tried to say something, but such was her anger, she had trouble forming words. Perhaps it was for the best, considering what said words were…

"Besides, _you _were the one who wanted to charge into the fray rather than set up a firing line," continued the mercenary. "And that's what Jennings and his men did. And while I stand guilty of ending their lives, they were as good as dead anyway due to the Hydralisks. I just sped up the process."

"Process?" Dawn whispered, her voice laced with venom. "Is that how you view death? A simple process that can be rationalized."

"Of course it can be rationalized," said Granger his simply, waving his hand from side to side. "Death is inevitable and as a medic, you know it. You save someone's life, all you're doing is postponing inevitability."

Dawn's eyes became significantly less narrowed, listening to Granger's words. There was truth to them, yes…but she'd never believed them. She'd seen people die, some of them as she was trying to save their life. But she'd never viewed death as inevitable, at least in the sense that saving a life was insignificant in the greater scheme of things. A postponement of judgment perhaps, but never futile.

"You're despicable," Dawn whispered, fingering her pistol. "You take advantage of strife, choosing who to fight for based on how much money they earn." She pointed up to the stars. "There are people _dying _up there Granger, and all you can do is-…"

"Oh spare me!" shouted Granger. "I don't need a lecture from a naive, over-idealistic fool who wouldn't no reality if it shoved itself right up her-…"

The events that followed were very sudden.

Dawn raised her pistol, ready to pop a bullet right between Granger's eyes.

The Commander anticipated this, grabbing the pistol with his right hand, hitting Dawn's neck with his left elbow and kicked her down onto the snow.

The lieutenant brought her left leg around, tripping Granger up so he too was on the frozen ground. The pistol flew out of his hand.

Both of them dived for the pistol, reaching it at the same time. Both struggled with it, trying to point towards their adversary…

**BAM!**

The eyes of both Dawn and Granger faced each other. Both sets of eyes realized that their counterpart still had the spark of life, that neither of them had fired the pistol. Both sets of eyes turned to the source of the gunshot, the source holding a C-141 AC Gauss Rifle, the shotgun attachment smoking. The source who was-…

"Ventrallis?" Dawn asked.

It was indeed the Staff Sergeant, the flickering light casting a shadow over his African-Asian features. He was wearing his regular fatigues, but given as to how he was able to wield the Gauss Rifle without exertion, it hardly made a difference.

"Are you two done yet?" he asked slowly, "or do I have to wait until you start acting like adults or until someone's killed?"

Dawn glanced towards Granger, musing that as far as the former magistrate was concerned, the second option was somewhat appealing. However, she turned back to face Ventrallis, rising as she did so.

"Neither Ventrallis." A faint smile formed, marveling as to how rare it was to see the Raider take the initiative in any way. "Since when did you become-…"

"I care about one thing, and that's getting this mission done," Ventrallis interrupted, lowering his rifle. "Most of the time, that involves me following orders without question. Still, if the situation calls for it, I'll step in…"

Dawn shook her head. In his own way, Ventrallis was no better than Granger. All he cared about was getting the mission done, regardless of whatever happened along the way. Granger could find justification for his actions, but Ventrallis didn't even give a damn.

"Anyway, now that we've become rational again, I have something for you," said the staff sergeant. He tossed Granger a holo-pad. "Present from Captain Raynor."

Granger placed the device on the snow and activated it, a topographic map being displayed a meter above it. Dawn realized it must have been put together from the _Hyperion_'s GIS systems, 

the imagery displaying Christmas Village and the area around it. The Tunundrun Plateau caught her attention, a plethora of red images on top of it. Images that resembled-…

"Zerg," grunted Granger. "They're centered on the plateau."

Ventrallis nodded. "Same conclusion from the _Hyperion _sir. What we do about it however, is up to you."

"What!?" burst out Dawn. "We're leaving the plan to-…"

"We attack tomorrow," interrupted Granger, Dawn's words lost on the two men in her company. He traced the outline of the plateau. "It's an elevated position but there's no sign of a Hive Cluster."

"You think that the Zergrinch could set one up?" asked Dawn, her desire to find a chink in Granger's command abilities bordering on desperation. Clearly the friendly fire incident hadn't made the impression it should have. She wasn't in the mood for a repeat of the incident to occur before Raynor finally saw sense.

"The Zergrinch doesn't strike me as the rational type, but if it's got any sense, it'll recognize the strategic value of the plateau," answered Granger. "If we attack soon, we can nip the creep in the bud."

"The what?" Dawn asked. Once again, she was ignored.

"We have the manpower for a pre-emptive assault," said Ventrallis. "We lost First Squad but-…"

"Lose!? We didn't _lose _them! What happened is that-…"

"Many of the Christmas Corporation's staff are willing to fight with us," continued the Staff Sergeant.

The Commander nodded. "Good. We'll attack tomorrow then, defeating the zerg in time to celebrate Christmas."

Dawn snorted. "Never thought you'd figure _that _into the equation."

"Leadership is like maths," said Granger simply. "Sometimes, you have to work in a bit of calculus to make it work."

Watching Granger continue to brief Ventrallis, Dawn understood something. She was an oddity in this bunch, the only one who believed in something more than simply fighting because it was the only option. The zerg had to be defeated, yes, but not simply because they were invading. They had to be defeated because it was simply the right thing to do. Silently, Dawn picked up her pistol and holstered it, glancing towards where the plateau lay as she did so. When they engaged the zerg, she would fight…and fight _hard_.

That was the power of belief.

* * *

_A/N_

_Almost fitting that this story is set on an ice planet, considering that it's eleven degrees celsius at this time of writing. Suffice to say, getting into the 'spirit' of the chapter was somewhat easy. Still, I found this chapter to be a pleasent distraction from the last one. I'm not that comfortable writing for action scenes, preferring for a story to be sustained by narrative and dialogue._

_Speaking of which, I did breach my "clean language" policy in regards to Raynor's thoughts on Mengsk. Not a sign of things to come though I assure you, the commentary simply popped into my mind. And besides, Mengsk is the type of person that deserves it._

_Now if you excuse me, I'm off to freeze to death._


	6. Eve of Battle

****

StarCraft-Operation: Claws

**Chapter 6: Eve of Battle**

**December 24, 2501**

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

_**Behemoth**_**-class Battlecruiser **_**Hyperion**_

When Raynor and the rest of the Mar Sara Colonial Militia had first boarded the _Hyperion_, an action that now seemed to have taken place in another life entirely, Raynor had been the only one who knew the origins of its namesake.

Even now, it was a fact that elicited feelings of satisfaction and wistfulness in the former marshal. Satisfaction due to the simple human emotion of pride. Wistfulness, in that he'd come across the information while he'd been living alone on the planet, still dealing with the loss of Liddy and Johnny. Not the most pleasant part of his life, but still infinitely better than his life at the moment.

Raynor shook the feeling off, continuing to look down upon Planet Christmas from the Battlecruiser's bridge, Polaris Beta casting its light over the planet. It hadn't been the first time the rebel had looked down upon a planet, nor would it be the last, but even so, that didn't make the sight any less majestic to him.

_Guess the _Hyperion's _the right ship to be here, _thought Raynor as he looked at Polaris Beta, remembering how Hyperion was the son of Gaia and Ouranos in one of Old Earth's many ancient mythologies. A "sun titan" as he was, eventually ending up in the hellish realm known as Tartarus.

"But not this _Hyperion_," murmured the captain, remembering the zerg down on the planet's surface and how they were basically hell personified. "Not this _Hyperion at _all…"

"You say something sir?"

Raynor spun around, his gaze meeting that of a bemused Matt Horner. Too late, Raynor realized that he'd been talking to himself. Hopefully a rare occurrence, the Raider not wanting to get into such a bad habit.

_Right, and you don't have bad habits already? Drinking, smoking, not to mention-…_

"Yeah, I asked for a sit-rep," said Raynor, allaying Horner's concerns and silencing his conscience simultaneously. "Give me a scan of the system, look for any off-world activity."

It was obvious that Horner knew that his superior hadn't asked for a situation report earlier, but devoted to his job, he didn't query him. The lieutenant made his way to the star map, bringing up an image of the system.

"No sign of external activity sir," said Horner eventually, having performed a scan of the system. "Apart from the _Hyperion _and the wreckage of the _Ithaca_, there's nothing artificial within the system."

Horner's words prompted Raynor to recall that the _Ithaca_'s namesake stemmed from the same type of mythology as that of the _Hyperion_, but most of his mind was filled with relief rather than recollection. There were numerous ways to evade scans of course, especially if they were only 

being made by a single ship, but as far as he knew, there were no signs of zerg or the Dominion near Planet Christmas.

All things considered, Raynor didn't know which would be worse.

"Good…then all we have to worry about is the Zergrinch then," said the former marshal, rubbing his unshaven chin as he did so. He glanced at his watch-0950 hours, local time. Assuming that Granger kept to his word, the Commander would be moving out in ten minutes.

"Alright," said Raynor eventually, turning to the lieutenant. "Matt, prep Second and Third Platoons, they're to be dropped in five. Also alert Wraith Squadron Charlie to get ready for dispatch."

"Yes sir," said Horner, giving a salute and walking over to the comms. console. "What about the _Hyperion_?"

"We'll stay in orbit in case of any unexpected arrivals. And to head planet side if the situation arises."

Both of the terrans knew that the possibility of heading down towards Planet Christmas wasn't that desirable. Capital ships could function within planetary atmospheres but it wasn't carried out widely due to the effects of gravity. It was hard to move such a large craft through the air and even harder to break away from the planet's gravitational pull. And although the presence of a capital ship would save many lives and cost the zerg much, if the Raiders enemies closed in from within the system, no-one would be getting out alive.

It was such information that Raynor relayed to Granger.

"Got that Captain," the Commander's voice crackled over the radio. "But can you hold the ships in reserve?"

"Yeah, I can hold them back," answered Raynor, gesturing to Horner to get off the horn to the platoons in the hangers. "You got a plan?"

"Affirmative sir. One that the reinforcements can factor into nicely."

"Right, so long as you're not killing them that is."

Silence descended on the bridge and given the lack of communication from Granger, his Goliath as well. A silence derived from a sense of unease both on the bridge and on the surface of the planet below.

_And he deserves it, _the captain thought bitterly. _He may have done what he had to do, but he didn't have to do it without a bloody second thought!_

"I can't promise anything," said Granger eventually. "But provided that those under my command don't do anything stupid, there shouldn't be any incidents."

For a moment, Raynor was tempted to declare that it was no longer Granger's command, that he was going to head down to Planet Christmas and lead the Raiders himself. However, it would be impractical to do so and the last time he'd led the Raiders directly against the zerg, things hadn't fared well. Memories of Char still burnt as bright as the fires of the planet itself.

So somewhat despising himself for it, Raynor gave the mercenary the go-ahead.

* * *

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

**Tunundrun Plateau slopes**

**Mission Clock: 00:14:26**

It was Christmas Village all over again, only with opposite roles.

Granger knew that he was meant to be concentrating on the battle that was raging but couldn't help but notice how the roles of man and alien had been reversed. True, the zerg were charging at the soldiers, the soldiers firing back, but this time the zerg were heading down a slope rather than up one. And given the frequency at which the critters had to be dealt with in close quarters, it showed to.

"Dammit!" Zergling, eleven o'clock!"

"What!? Where!?"

"There! There!"

Granger wasn't sure who was shouting over the radio but seeing the Zergling heading towards one of the Christmas Corporation's staff fumbling with a clip for his assault rifle, he didn't particularly care either. Having taken more than the average 2.5 seconds to reload the AGR-14, the Zergling in question had a clear run at the line, leapt through the air…

…and was crushed by the Goliath's foot.

"Not so much to look at when you scrape them off your boot," murmured Granger, the man below looking up at the walker with a combination of shock and awe. All things considered, the former magistrate couldn't blame him. Those who survived the zerg attack on Christmas Village were mainly those who knew how to handle weapons, but that didn't mean that they relished the prospect of gunning down overgrown insects. They'd come with the Raiders because of a lack of manpower and certainty as to the Zergrinch's numbers, but had circumstances been different, most of them would have stayed at home.

_Can't blame them I suppose, _mused the Commander, gunning down a trio of Hydralisks with the Goliath's autocannons, an RPG detonating amongst a group nearby. _It's not as if the zerg are here to do business._

Business…since last night, the concept had been wiped from his mind. For better or worse, all he cared about now was defending Planet Christmas and those on it, if only for the fact that that involved killing zerg.

Not that the critters were making it easy. Either due to closer proximity to the Zergrinch or the abomination having developed some measure of sanity, the zerg were conforming to their usual "meat shield tactics." Zerglings up front, Hydralisks behind, the result being that the deadlier strains were partially shielded from the hundreds of projectiles that came their way. Given the slope of the plateau the angle allowed for individual targeting, but the Christmas Corporation staff were not only without the Raiders' targeting systems, but were falling into the trap of simply standing and shooting.

_This isn't working, _Granger thought as he looked out the side of his cockpit, seeing a Raider bringing his armored boot down on the neck of a Zergling while blazing away at a Hydralisk. _We're hitting targets but not the ones that matter the most._

"Sir, I hate to be the one to point this out to you, but your plan isn't working."

The mercenary grimaced. He seriously doubted that Jacqueline Dawn was reluctant to find fault in his actions, not to mention that she was pointing out what he already knew.

"Shut up lieutenant. You supported this plan, remember!?"

"Yeah, because it didn't involve killing your fellow soldiers!" came the voice over the radio, accompanied by sounds of hissing, gunfire and the screams of the wounded.

"Look, just hang in there," said Granger. "I haven't even begun to execute the main phase."

The Commander expected Dawn to contest the point, but she instead terminated the connection. Possibly due to having her hands full…or maybe it was due to the second wave coming down the slope.

For Granger, it was Mar Sara City all over again. He remembered how the zerg had battered away against the city's defenses while its inhabitants waited for the Sons of Korhal transports to arrive. Wave after wave of the aliens had come their way, each wave more numerous than the last, each one cutting deeper into the kill zone. By the time Mengsk's transports had finally arrived, Granger had lost as many men to depression and fear as he had to the zerg's blades. The ability to instill fear and to act as one were the zerg's greatest assets. And as the horde of Zerglings and Hydralisks surged downwards, each individual strain in formation and ensuring that the deadlier strains were protected, even the Zergrinch understood that…

_Sorry to disappoint you buddy, but I understand it too…_

Understanding stemmed from the mind, but it was the hand of man that enacted his will. And engaging in secondary fire mode and launching missile after missile at the top of the slope, the Commander's will was done. The problem however, was that Granger's hand had caused a small landslide to occur, numerous boulders drifting down across the snow, giving the zerg cover. It increased their travel time, but also shielded them from the humans' fire. And given how the critters began zigzagging between boulders, they clearly understood it.

"Permission to speak clearly sir?" came a familiar voice over the radio.

"Permission denied," the former magistrate grunted as he terminated the connection that Dawn had made and established a new one. "Staff Sergeant Ventrallis, are you there?"

"Affirmative sir. Ready for deployment."

"Good. Begin phase two."

"Yes sir. Beginning the second phase."

Despite the raging battle, Granger leant back against his seat, watching the zerg surge down the slope.

_I'm losing my touch, _he thought. _First I get all mopey last night, now I give the zerg more cover…_

There was at least one silver lining to the situation though, a silver lining that Granger re-established the link with Ventrallis to tell him about. But with another group of zerg coming the Commander's way only to be gunned down, it was academic anyway.

* * *

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

**Quantradyne APOD-33 Dropship **_**Hermes**_

**Mission Clock: 00:20:47**

Even if Ventrallis had been on vacation, he doubted that he could appreciate Planet Christmas' scenery. True, the sparkle on the snow due to reflected sunlight had a degree of appeal to it, but apart from that, there was nothing to catch the eye. Just snow, snow and more snow.

He shook it off. He had a job to do, said job being the landing of 2nd Squad to the top of the Tunundrun Plateau, gaining the high ground against the zerg and thus boxing them in on the lower slopes.

"Simple, right?" Ventrallis murmured.

"What was that sir?" asked McNab.

"Nothing."

Given the silence of those under his command, even Clarke, Ventrallis suspected that they knew what he did. Granger's plan had merit of course, but it was based on the assumption that the Zergrinch hadn't set up a hive cluster on the plateau. True, the _Hyperion_'s GIS analysis suggested that the summit was bereft of any structures, but that didn't mean that there was no room for doubt. And in order to preserve secrecy, no flybys had been attempted either.

Ventrallis wasn't a gambling man. He dealt with facts and acted upon them. Take the facts away or not present them at all, and he ran into problems.

"LZ within sight, no hostiles spotted," came the voice of the Dropship's pilot.

"Affirmative," answered Ventrallis. He turned to face his squad. "Alright men, our first priority is to secure the LZ. After that-…"

"Wait, secure the LZ?" asked Clarke. "I thought Scanlon just said that-…"

"After that, we wait for the arrival of second and third platoons," continued the staff sergeant, deciding not to point out to Clarke that the zerg were hardly lacking in the ability to hide themselves from sight. "Once we've linked up, we'll move down the slope and begin shooting the zerg like fish in a barrel." He took the safety off his rifle. "Any questions?"

Even if there had been, Ventrallis wouldn't have heard them. It was at this point that the Dropship landed, the cabin being illuminated by a green light above the ramp. The Raiders began surging out even before the ramp had fully descended, splitting into two fire teams and ensuring that they had as great a field of vision as possible.

"Everything ok?" asked Warrant Officer Scanlon.

"Affirmative," said Ventrallis, signaling his men to rise from their crouched positions. "No hostiles detected."

"Rodger that," answered Scanlon, beginning to rise. "I'll keep a lookout from above."

"ETA for 2nd and 3rd Platoons?"

"Five to ten minutes."

"Affirmative. Ventrallis out."

The staff sergeant looked around the plateau, guessing its diameter to be around one hundred meters. There was no clear path downwards, but the Raiders CMC armor would be able to endure any drops that came their way.

"I don't get it," murmured Briscoe. "This plateau is an easy fallback point and can be defended easily. Surely the Zergrinch would leave at least some forces here."

"The Zergrinch isn't exactly the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree," said Ventrallis, still gripping his Gauss Rifle like a lifeline. "It probably took all of its forces down to the plateau's base. After all-…"

"Ventrallis, this is Scanlon, over."

Ventrallis sighed. He had a job to do, one that hopefully didn't entail answering calls every few seconds.

"This is Ventrallis, go ahead, over," he said into his radio.

"I've done a flyby of the plateau, and it looks like heading down the south side is your easiest bet. However, I've detected an energy signature at the plateau's north end, over."

"…What kind of energy signature?"

"I don't know sergeant. It…seems to be based on psionic technology."

"…Rodger that. Ventrallis out."

Terminating the link, Ventrallis hoped that he sounded more confident than he felt, a feat not made any easier by superimposing the terrain on his HUD and finding the energy signature was indeed where Scanlon had said it would be, courtesy of the pilot sending the data into his suit's navigation systems. Nothing wrong with that. But the signature itself…only the protoss used psionic technology.

Ventrallis hated surprises. And less than five minutes into deployment, he'd already been presented with one.

"Alright…" he said eventually. "McNab, take fire team one and head down the plateau to set up our firebase. Fire team two, you're with me."

A chorus of affirmation greeted him, the sound dying away as both groups split up. A silence descended on the plateau, broken only by the sound of armored boots crunching on the snow and the sound of the _Hermes_' engines.

"So Reynolds," asked Clarke eventually. "What's your New Year's resolution going to be?"

Reynolds snorted. "Right, like I'd tell _you_."

"Why even bother?" asked Briscoe. "People never fulfill their resolutions. All resolutions are for are for making you feel about stuff that you're never going to do."

Ventrallis turned down his aural directional enhancers, not wanting to hear about how Clarke's resolution was to kill all the zerg in the Koprulu Sector and Reynolds exclaiming that that was the lamest resolution he'd ever heard. Besides, he had other things to worry about…such as the source of the energy signature. A source that was just ahead of them and half buried in snow.

"What…is that?" asked Private First Class Geary, breaking his usual silence.

Ventrallis seemed to be intent on exchanging roles considering that he didn't answer Geary's question. He scraped the snow aside, coming across a cylindrical object, roughly twice as tall as 

a man. Its inside was…well, empty, yet full. It was hard to describe. Like an emptiness, yet one that was filled with something beyond his sight and mind.

The strange symbols on what he supposed was the control panel didn't help either.

"This blows," murmured Clarke. "All we have here is some cylinder thing that's probably broken."

Reynolds sighed. "First of all, it isn't broken. Secondly, it isn't a cylinder thing, it's a stasis cell."

"A what?" the group asked as one.

"A stasis cell," repeated the Private, turning to face his superior. "The protoss use them for a variety of purposes."

"Such as?" asked Ventrallis.

"Incarceration, preservation, display…" said Reynolds, the tone of his voice making it clear the list went on for longer than he'd care to recite. "Think of them as the equivalent to cryogenic hibernation technology, only more advanced."

Clarke snorted at that. "More advanced my ass. This thing isn't even working properly."

"Oh, so you're the techie here are you?" asked Reynolds, taking a step forward.

Ventrallis knew that he should intervene, but something held him back. Something akin to morbid curiosity as to how and why the two Raiders could make such a big deal of something that shouldn't even be here.

_Are the Protoss involved? _he wondered. _Or does the Zergrinch bring random devices on whenever it becomes insane enough to attack a planet?_

"Clarke, you don't know what you're talking about!"

"Course I do! If it wasn't broken, it wouldn't be making that hissing sound!"

"Hissing sound!? What hissing sound!?"

Clarke never got the chance to point out what hissing sound he was referring to, but given what transpired, all those involved could guess its source.

Silence descended on the plateau as all those present stopped and listened.

Nothing happened.

Reynolds began claiming that Clarke was an idiot.

A few seconds later, Reynolds stopped claiming that Clarke was an idiot, courtesy of a scythe shooting out of the ground and impaling him through the chest.

All eyes turned to the scythe and Reynolds' screaming form halfway down it.

All eyes then turned to the Hydralisk that had raised itself from the ground.

Half of the eyes then turned to the rest of the Hydralisks that had crawled their way out of the ground.

All eyes went back to Reynolds, currently in the midst of being pitched off the plateau to fall to his death, provided that blood loss and/or physical trauma didn't kill him first.

All eyes then turned back to Ventrallis, looking for leadership.

The Staff Sergeant yelled "Ambush!" and "Open fire!"

Raising their Gauss Rifles, what remained of fire team two proceeded to do just that.

_A/N_

_Once again this is the result of chapter splitting. Not due to length per se, but from the fact that I needed a break in the last section to make the narrative work properly and ending the chapter here seemed the best place to do it._


	7. The Christmas Spirit

**StarCraft-Operation: Claws**

**Chapter 7: The Christmas Spirit**

**December 24, 2501**

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

**Tunundrun Plateau**

**Mission Clock: 00:28:55**

Private William Clarke suspected that he'd go out like this.

He'd never considered the specifics, but falling to the zerg seemed to be among the surest way to die. They'd wrecked so much havoc over the last few years that it seemed inevitable that everyone who took up arms against the critters would fall to them eventually, whether it be by tooth, claw, spike, or some gory combination.

However, the zerg had stopped after the final battle on _Char Aleph_, the Queen of Blades mysteriously pulling the Swarm back to Char. Not that Clarke was complaining of course, but it did make him wonder as to how he was going to depart this universe now that the devil's spawn had decided to lie low. Until a few weeks ago, he'd suspected that he'd probably be taken out by someone from the Dominion, considering that Captain Raynor despised its emperor as much as the zerg's queen.

Facing the zerg right now however, he was back to the original scenario…

"We gotta get outta here!" someone in the fire team shouted, the sound of gunfire and inhuman screeches preventing Clarke from identifying who.

"No shit!" shouted Briscoe, Clarke watching as he managed to shoot a grenade down a Hydralisk's throat before it sent a barrage of needle spines his way. "You want me to make a plan for you!?"

Clarke blinked, not only because of the Hydralisk's blood that had splattered over his visor courtesy of Briscoe's grenade. Why was a plan needed when all that needed to be done was run like hell?

"No, we don't need a plan," said Ventrallis calmly, reloading as he did so. "We hold the line and that's final."

The staff sergeant's words had some truth to them, in that the Raiders had formed a firing line, blazing away at the Hydralisks advancing on them. As the attack on Christmas Village had demonstrated, the strains preferred fighting in enclosed spaces where their lack of speed wasn't so much a factor, moving in as one to dispatch their pray either through their scythes or needle spines. Out in the open however, they were exposed to the Raiders' gunfire, 8mm spikes travelling at hypersonic speeds tearing into alien flesh.

_I might not die after all, _Clarke thought to himself, watching as another Hydralisk began crawling out of the ground only to have a spike go right through its skull. _Maybe I'll get to die at the hands of the Dominion after all_.

"Shit, we're being surrounded," Ventrallis murmured.

"What!?" shouted Clarke, having been snapped out of his daydreaming.

"The staff sergeant said we're being surrounded!" Briscoe shouted, putting one hand on Clarke's shoulder while firing his Slugthrower in the other, having discarded his C-14 Gauss Rifle for some reason. "Either pay attention to orders or I'll-…"

Clarke never got to hear the rest of Briscoe's threat. Having one's outstretched arm cloven in two by an alien monstrosity tended to redirect one's sense of priorities. Looking down in horror, Clarke wasn't sure what sickened him more-that Briscoe's severed arm was still twitching or the fact that his body was being torn to shreds by a trio of Hydralisks which had recently risen from the ground. He would have stayed longer if Ventrallis hadn't pulled him away after tossing a grenade at the bunch, presumably in the hope that it would kill Briscoe before his attackers did.

"We're leaving," grunted the staff sergeant. "Now."

"Yeah…right," said Clarke slowly, the hope of dying at the hands of the Dominion once again removed from his mind. Both he and his superior ran across the snow, their CMC-300 Powered Combat Suits carrying them at a pace beyond that of a normal human, let alone an overgrown caterpillar. Clarke glanced to his right, seeing Ventrallis talking to someone over his radio. He then glanced to his left, seeing…no-one.

"Wait a minute!" exclaimed Clarke. "Where's Geary!?"

Ventrallis didn't answer him, but still stopped running, glancing at the Private and then back towards the far end of the plateau. Clarke followed suit, seeing the PFC running backwards while firing his rifle on full automatic, the Hydralisks heading towards him.

"What the hell's he doing!?" Clarke exclaimed. Even in powered combat armor, running backwards wasn't easy, especially on a substance such as snow. And even with the structural support provided and HUD targeting systems, firing a weapon on full automatic while moving in such a manner wasn't easy either. In the end, it wasn't surprising when the inevitable happened…

…Geary fell.

So did the Hydralisks for that matter.

"Leave him," said Ventrallis firmly, putting his hand on Clarke's shoulder to prevent him from rushing to his comrade's aid.

"But sergeant, we can't just-…"

"Geary died because of being stupid," said the NCO simply. "The least we can do is ensure that his stupidity isn't wasted."

Clarke could think of a number of counter-arguments for Ventrallis' reasoning-that not only was Geary not dead yet (courtesy of his screams) but stupidity was something that you rectified rather than exploited. It was such a belief that had led to him allowing himself to goof off, knowing that if he got into trouble, his teammates would get him out of it. His gaze alternating between Ventrallis and Geary however, Clarke realized how misplaced his assertion had been.

In the end he ran after the staff sergeant, if only for the fact that he was moving away from him, while Geary's amount of movement was steadily decreasing.

"So what do we do now?" Clarke asked, coming up alongside his superior.

Ventrallis pointed to the sky, as the pair continued to run, the sound of crunching snow being heard all the way…at least until the sound of a Quantradyne APOD-33 Dropship was heard.

"This is Scanlon, over," came a voice over the radio. "Everything ok down there?"

"That's a negative," murmured Ventrallis, the Raiders having come to a stop. "Everything's FUBAR down here, we need extraction."

Clarke had always been one for arguing for the sake of it, but found no reason to disagree with Ventrallis' assessment. They'd lost the bulk of their fire team in a matter of minutes and the Hydralisks, having finished desecrating Geary's corpse, were now moving towards them. If not for Scanlon descending towards the pair at a pace that would ensure they would be airborne before the critters could reach them, Clarke would probably have actually been agreeing with the staff sergeant _vocally_.

"ETR is approximately twelve seconds," said Scanlon. "What about your other fire team?"

"They're to continue down the plateau," the staff sergeant answered. "Granger needs all the help he can get and we can't let a botched landing screw that up."

"What about 2nd and 3rd platoons?"

"Ask the commander about it. We're all in this mess together."

Clarke noticed how bitter the staff sergeant sounded. _Figures really. He's always been one for pulling off operations without a hitch. And look at us now._

"Alright," said Scanlon. "Preparing to deploy maglev lines in three…two…one…holy shit!"

It happened so quickly that upon reflection, Clarke could never be sure what had given him the first indication that something was wrong. Maybe it was Scanlon's exclamation. Maybe it was the screeches of a flight of Mutalisks emerging from the plateau's northern side. Maybe it was that the Hydralisks had stopped their advance for some reason. Or maybe it was the moment when the Mutalisks began attacking the Dropship that he realized that Ventrallis' earlier assessment had perhaps been an understatement.

"Dammit…they're all over me!" Scanlon shouted, veering the Dropship away from the plateau. The Mutalisks followed suit, unloading voracious creatures known as "glaive wurms" into the ship's hull. The parasites swarmed all over the craft, some of the Mutalisks hanging back firing while others attacked the ship directly, the sound of fangs and wings tearing into metal drowning up Scanlon's curses.

"Can't…control…going…down…"

All in all, it came as little surprise to Clarke when the ship exploded in mid-air. And if it wasn't for the fact that there were over a dozen Mutalisks in the sky above them, he may have been grateful that the explosion had taken out a few of the monstrosities.

"Well…this sucks…" murmured the Raider, prepping his rifle and wondering which zerg breed would reach him first. He turned to look at his superior. "Any chance of escape or rescue? Or are we screwed?"

Ventrallis sighed. "We have our job to do. And that's to take out as many of these critters as we can before we're torn to pieces."

Nodding, Clarke began sizing up his targets, ready to unleash a volley of death.

As it was, someone did it for him.

"Yee-hah! Take that you overgrown alien yokels!"

It was the voice that gave Clarke hope in the knowledge that no-one would talk like that apart from a country hick-the type of person one found on planets such as Mar Sara. And given the knowledge that the incoming CF-A/17G Wraith squadron was friendly, he could take satisfaction in watching the fighters unleash Gemini air-to-air missiles against the flying demons while sending the Hydralisks scampering with bursts of laser fire.

"Wraith Squadron Charlie? That you?" asked Ventrallis, kneeling down on the snow.

"Affirmative staff sergeant," came a voice, the Wraiths having split up into two-sub-flights. "Brought you a little package too."

"A package?" asked Clarke. "I thought that Santa was the one who gave out…oh."

Following Ventrallis' arm, Clarke saw a pair of Dropships descending from the sky, their hulls glowing like the lights of a Christmas tree due to the heat generated by descending through the planet's atmosphere. Some of the Mutalisks tried to intercept them, but the Wraiths were far quicker, scattering them with a volley of lasers and then taking them out one by one via missiles.

"So…what do we do now?" Clarke asked Ventrallis. "Join up with McNab? Or check out the stasis cell?"

The Raider shrugged, picking up a piece of snow and letting it run through his fingers. "May as well join up with the rest of the squad. Santa can wait."

"Santa?"

Ventrallis turned to face Clarke. "He's the one in the stasis cell."

"But…it was empty…"

The staff sergeant laughed softly. "Clarke, all stasis cells look empty. And besides, who is the only person on this planet that the Zergrinch is going to leave such numbers of zerg to guard while residing inside a stasis cell? The one who brings Christmas to the Fringe Worlds."

Clarke turned back to the cell, understanding the reasoning behind Ventrallis words. The Zergrinch didn't have a sense of reason, but there was still an understanding of its motives. It was driven by irrationality, and attacking a planet over the existence of Christmas was about as irrational as one could get.

And Santa Claus was the center of that…

Clarke looked over the plateau, watched as the Dropships began landing and deploying their human cargo, watching as the Wraiths dispatched the last of the Mutalisks and sent the Hydralisks scampering down the plateau's cliffs. A perfect scene…if not for the bodies of his friends, only two of which were visible. Where Reynolds had landed was anyone's guess.

"So…shall we go?" asked Ventrallis, having stood up. He lowered a hand to Clarke, the last member of those he had led into disaster. Clarke smiled. Maybe Ventrallis wasn't so heartless after all. Maybe he _was _capable of seeing beyond the numbers. And if someone like Ventrallis was capable of that, then maybe those present here were capable of much more…

"Yeah," he said, accepting the staff sergeant's hand. "I'm ready to go."

* * *

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

**Tunundrun Plateau slopes**

**Mission Clock: 00:48:57**

Jacqueline Dawn knew that there were at least half a dozen regulations that stated she should keep her helmet on in a combat situation, not to mention that reflected sunlight would leave her with sore eyes, but right now she simply couldn't give a damn. Besides, it was far more refreshing for a wounded individual to see a human face looking down to them unimpeded by a visor, let alone one that was polarized.

"There, that should do it," she said, giving PFC Stross an injection of anti-toxin. A Hydralisk's needle spine had found a chink in his armor and while the spine itself hadn't done much damage, the poison within the projectile was another matter. Mild compared to other organisms such as the scantids of Korhal, but Dawn knew that it was best not to take any chances. Besides, she was a medical officer. It was her job to play nanny.

"Thanks ma'am," said the Raider, getting to his feet and trying to salute and load a clip into his rifle simultaneously. "Your name will be on the spikes of this clip."

"I'm sure they will," said Dawn, smiling faintly. "Provided you actually get around to using it.

She didn't wait for a response or to see what Stross' reaction was. Instead, she turned to look towards the battle. Far away from the frontline, she was still able to watch the zerg be caught in a crossfire between those on the bottom of the plateau and those on its upper ledges. She'd never admit it, but Granger's plan had actually worked. A combination of explosive and solid projectiles was culling the zerg like fish in a barrel, not to mention the air support provided by the Wraiths. And lacking a sophisticated chain of command, there was little the zerg could do to alleviate their situation.

_Good, _she thought to herself, turning back to face the rest of her patients. The Commander's plan had worked, but it had still taken time to execute. And in that time, many of the zerg had reached the Raiders firing line, coming to blows with the humans. Often, the CMC armor did its job, but sometimes…

_Sometimes it just isn't enough_, thought Dawn bitterly. At least a dozen Raiders lay before her, all of them wounded to such an extent that they were immobile. Until 2nd and 3rd platoons had showed up, Granger had instructed that she focus on the lightly wounded first, ensuring that as many Raiders remained in the fight as possible. With the zerg on the brink of defeat however, she could get to those who truly needed the attention.

"Right," she said, clasping her hands together. "Who wants a physical first?"

A chorus of affirmation emitted from her charges, barely audible over the sound of gunfire, explosions, and the zerg's shrieks.

"Ok…" she said slowly, realizing that all those before her wanted to be treated first and couldn't judge the severity of their injuries for themselves.

_And why should they? _she asked herself. _You're the one who's treating them. Make your own decisions._

The back of Dawn's mind reminded her that her sudden lapse in judgment was due to Granger, that having been directly subordinate to the man, the need to make her own decisions had evaporated. When confronted with such a need, her ability to do so was now somewhat limited.

It showed too, considering that when a Defiler burst out of the ground and scattered her charges, Dawn didn't have the faintest idea what to do.

"Heathens…" it hissed. "Take solace in your blasphemy while you can, for judgment is at hand."

Dawn simply stared at the creature. It was like a scorpion, if scorpions grew to be twice the size of cattle and had glowing red eyes. And there was also the stench, a smell like a mix of rubbish tip and an open sewer.

"You must be the Zergrinch," said Dawn slowly, the Raiders she'd been tending trying their best to get away from the creature. "The one the Overmind gave the gift of speech to.

The creature turned to face her, letting out a hiss. "Correct human…I am the one who offers deliverance.

Dawn didn't know whether to be angry or amused at such words. It had attacked a defenseless planet over whatever warped ideology it had and it called its coming _deliverance_?

She decided to go with anger.

"Kinda sad really," the medic said. "You're perhaps the only zerg in the galaxy that can actually talk and all you can say is a bunch of bullshit."

"I speak the truth!" it yelled, raising itself in height.

"The truth!?" Dawn exclaimed. She gestured over to the plateau. "The only _truth _here is that your minions are being slaughtered and you're too dense to realize it."

The Zergrinch laughed, the sound washing over Dawn like sandpaper. "In a time of insanity, look to the insane to guide you."

"Over my dead body."

In the next few seconds that followed, Dawn realized that the Zergrinch had probably been looking for an excuse to engage in combat, taking her cue and promptly rushing her. She'd certainly been looking for an excuse herself, un-holstering her C-7 and opening fire. She hadn't used it the entire campaign and the Zergrinch was the ideal candidate…or at least it would have been if the spikes had actually done anything.

Dawn couldn't help but scream as the Zergrinch's' right pincer closed around her mid-section, the crunching sound that followed not entirely being metal. Gritting her teeth, she fired directly into the Zergrinch's face, pulling the trigger even after the pistol's clip fell down onto the snow below.

"It's no use," hissed the Zergrinch, grinning despite the numerous holes in its face. "You can't defeat eternity."

Eternity…Dawn almost felt like laughing despite the fact that she could barely breathe, the Zergrinch's stench being almost unbearable and the strange wetness she was feeling around her chest. Nothing lasted forever. Civilizations fell, people died and every time she saved a life, she knew it was nothing more than the postponement of death. That was the pain of existence.

But the monster in front of her was something else…the anathema to eternity. A member of a race who ensured that civilizations fell and people died with even greater speed than what time had ordained. A being that she knew was going to end her own life early if she didn't do something.

"Nothing…is…eternal," she rasped, plunging a sedative into the Zergrinch's claw.

The needle simply broke.

Dawn could swear that the Zergrinch was laughing internally as it looked down at the needle on the snow, then went back to staring at her.

"Quite right…" it hissed, leering at her. "Nothing is eternal."

And with a final sickening crunch, the coughing up of blood as the human's chest was reduced to a bloody mess, the Zergrinch proved its point. It let out a hiss of triumph, as if daring anyone to challenge it after its most recent victory.

The nearby Goliath seemed like a good candidate…

* * *

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

**Tunundrun Plateau slopes**

**Mission Clock: 00:55:32**

Dead. Jacqueline Dawn was dead.

Staring through his walker's plexishield, Granger couldn't believe it. This wasn't how it was meant to happen! Idealists were meant to either have their beliefs vindicated or be sobered by reality, not die before either piece of criteria was met!

Granger shook his head. _This isn't unexpected Alex, _he reminded himself. _This is the real world, not some piece of fiction._

A conflict of thought began brewing within the Commander. He shamefully admitted to himself that seeing Dawn's body on the ground satisfied him somewhat, that it took more than ideology to defeat the zerg. On the other, it was the Zergrinch who was responsible for his own vindication, not to mention a whole lot of other things that had plagued this world over the last few days. Here was the leader of the zerg, the root of hell's branches.

Prepping the Goliath, Granger was ready to do a bit of gardening.

It seemed that the Zergrinch had come to a similar conclusion, considering that it promptly let out a hiss and charged the walker. Perhaps it had realized that Granger was the leader of the Raiders on the planet and taking him out would at least disrupt the change of command. After all, no sane individual would charge a walker equipped with twin cannons of death.

_Then again, the Zergrinch isn't exactly sane… _Granger thought to himself, opening fire at the creature as it scuttled across the snow towards him.

Numerous autocannon rounds struck the snow around the Defiler, but not the creature itself. Granger gritted his teeth as the Zergrinch steadily lessened the distance between them. It had shot straight towards the Goliath, heading towards close quarters ASAP. Walkers possessed an advantage over tanks in that their crew was better protected, but were more vulnerable to immobilization due to their bi-pedal movement. And given the rage that was burning in the Zergrinch's eyes, Granger didn't doubt that the Zergrinch had enough strength to exploit that weakness.

_I thought Defilers were support strains, not psychopaths, _Granger thought bitterly as a proximity alert flashed in the cockpit's interior. _Live and learn I guess._

Letting out a roar, the Zergrinch bound forward from its previous scuttling, a pincer extended to the Goliath's right leg. Granger stepped back, the Zergrinch missing its mark. It leapt towards it again, Granger simultaneously stepping forward. The result was that the Zergrinch's angle of attack led its pincer into air and its face into the walker's knee.

"That knock some sense into you!?" Granger shouted, walking backwards as the Zergrinch reeled from the blow and hissed its disapproval. The former magistrate wouldn't have usually resorted to such poor puns, but circumstances were a bit different. Not only was he in the thick of battle as opposed to simply calling the shots, but he actually _hated_ his foe, hated the creature for what it had done. Unprofessional emotions to be sure, but the mercenary found that he didn't care.

The thoughts of last night had never truly left him…

Still, some sense remained, among which was the revelation that the Zergrinch was no ordinary zerg strain, possessing strength and agility far beyond that of its regular cousins. Granger had heard of such 'specialist strains', the images of the destruction wrought by the Torresque against the UED fresh in his mind. And as such, he was determined to keep as much distance between the Zergrinch and himself, blasting it into oblivion.

It seemed like a good plan, Granger walking backwards while constantly firing. Yet the Zergrinch continued to evade judgment, continued to dart in and out of his line of fire. Once again, it steadily narrowed the gap, though this time leapt up at the Goliath directly. The creature's momentum, combined with the fact that the walker was already heading backwards, sent it toppling down into the snow.

_Shit shit shit! _Granger thought, warning lights flashing on the interior of his cockpit as to how the Goliath had developed something in common with turtles. _Not good, not good!_

Granger doubted that the Zergrinch could read minds, but if it could, it certainly had a sense of timing. Coinciding with Granger's train of thought, it ripped away the cockpit's plexishield, its fetid breath washing down in the vehicle's interior.

"A worthy effort," it hissed. "But futile."

Granger couldn't help but laugh. The Overmind had given this creature the gift of speech and _that _was all it could come up with? But then again, the creature had changed after its father's destruction on Aiur. Insanity had taken hold of it, the consequences being on show here on Planet Christmas.

Time changed all things and Granger knew it. He knew that he was going to die, knew that even if he wasn't he wouldn't get his promised paycheck. He knew that he'd changed after Mengsk had revealed his true colors at Tarsonis, had known that there was no going back once he left Raynor after Dylar. But knowing something was based on information that was held as truth. And what was the truth was different for each and every individual. For the Zergrinch, the truth was that Christmas was some kind of blasphemy and had to be stamped out. For Granger, the truth was something else…

…and he saw it.

He saw the option on the controls to fire an AA missile from the left pod. He did so, the recoil flipping the Goliath onto its belly. He saw the Zergrinch under the walker, hissing and cursing, the two forms of communication indistinguishable from each other. He saw that his right missile pod was pressed against the Zergrinch's stomach. He saw something else, something in his mind…knowledge. Knowledge of what had to be done. And he smiled.

"Merry Christmas," Alexander Granger said calmly, leaning back in his seat and prepping an AA missile for the right pod. "And a Happy New Year."

He pulled the firing trigger.

* * *

_A/N_

_Chapter took a bit longer than I expected. Kinda funny though in a sense, in that I anticipated that the last section would be the hardest to write for. As it was, I wrote it in twenty minutes, yet circumstances prevented me from proof-reading for around seven hours._

_Also cut the chapter short (again), though it makes the next chapter, and last one for that matter longer as a result. _


	8. Resolutions

**Operation: Claws**

**Chapter 8: Resolutions**

**December 24, 2501**

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

_**Behemoth**_**-class Battlecruiser **_**Iron Fist**_

"Entering real-space in three…two…one…mark!"

With a jolt, the _Iron Fist _existed from the warp, leaving the mysterious dimension of energy behind as it returned to the realm of order. And as one would expect from a battlecruiser, it hardly did so in the most elegant fashion.

Frowning, Commander Haley steadied himself, checking his uniform for any creases, specks of dust, or anything else that could sully his appearance. A few days ago, he wouldn't have given a damn how he looked. Still, "few days ago" covered a time where he was drowning himself in alcohol and misery, still dealing with the aftershock of the Brood War. Now however, with word that an insane zerg had led its small and merry band to what was once a small and merry planet, his mindset had changed. He was ready to fight for the Alliance and humanity as a whole, and was determined that he would look good doing it.

Shame there wasn't anyone of the opposite gender around to notice it…

"There it is, Planet Christmas," came the voice of navigator Cordor. "We're situated about 250 miles above it."

Haley nodded. "Bring it on visual."

"Yes sir."

With a flicker, the star map changed its image from a schematic of the Polaris Beta System, replacing it with an image of its fourth planet. Haley walked over, taking one last look at the real thing through the bridge's viewport before switching his attention to the hologram. He needed double confirmation, from his own eyes and those of the ship's. Confirmation that they weren't too late…

_Looks like we're not_, thought the commander, relief surging through him as he viewed the unblemished image. He'd seen what the zerg could do to planets. Not directly of course, else he probably wouldn't have been standing here, but he'd seen images of the degradation the monsters had brought upon worlds such as Mar Sara and Antiga Prime, had seen how creep had choked those worlds to death before the protoss had come to perform euthanasia. And much to his relief, as both viewport and hologram showed, Planet Christmas had avoided such a fate.

There was another reason for studying the hologram however, and that was that it was far more detailed. The viewport offered a more majestic image (well, if you were into the whole "planet covered by ice without any other features" thing that was), but the hologram gave him a better view of what topography the world possessed, along with pinpointing its single settlement. With this information, Haley could plan his attack.

_If it even comes to that…_ the man thought to himself. _Which, all things considered, it may not…_

"Nav, have scans revealed any zerg activity planet side?"

"Negative sir. No zerg bio-signs detected."

"What about the Christmas Corporation? What about their distress signal?"

Corder remained silent for a few moments, typing on his console.

"Nothing sir," he said eventually. "Either the corporation's deactivated the signal, or it simply stopped transmitting on its own accord."

"Or the zerg's…" Haley murmured, turning his attention back to the star map.

The situation had inconsistencies and the commander knew it. Unless this was some kind of hoax played in the Christmas Spirit, there was no doubt that the zerg had attacked the planet. And in all likelihood, the original transmission had been correct in identifying the Zergrinch as the likely leader of the critters. But if that were the case, then why were there no signs of zerg activity? True, there was the chance that the zerg had been defeated already, but by whom? The corporation likely maintained a security detail, but that wouldn't have been nearly enough to defeat an alien invasion, even if the invaders were led by an insane monstrosity.

_The corporation must have received help before we got here,_ Haley thought to himself, the facts starting to form a clear picture. _But from whom? And why?_

Haley wasn't complaining about the turn of events, even if they meant that he couldn't show off his uniform while playing a hero. But that didn't mean his job here was over. That the beacon was no longer transmitting suggested that it had been deactivated, that there was no longer any need to call for help. But that didn't answer who had come to help the corporation in the first place.

_Who could have got here before us? The Dominion doesn't have the manpower or resources to maintain patrols this far out, they couldn't have possibly got here before us. And all things considered, they probably wouldn't want to…_

Haley understood the Dominion well enough to know that Mengsk would likely wait before sending any aid to Planet Christmas-soon enough to save the planet, but not soon enough to save its people. But try as he might, the commander couldn't think of a more likely candidate. The zerg had done a number on the Kel-Morian Combine in the Brood War and Planet Christmas was hardly the most appealing world in the Koprulu Sector in terms of mineral wealth. And while the Umojan Protectorate was arguably less motivated by self gain than its counterparts, its government had become more isolationist than ever, attempting to gain independence from the Dominion in its own way. To them, Planet Christmas would be of even less concern than to Moria or Korhal.

So many questions, so few answers. Still, hopefully the answers would be answered in time…

"Sir, we have an unidentified ship on radar!"

…Or not.

Sighing, Haley said "Show me." If it had been an identified craft, he would have perhaps been more enthusiastic, relieved that he'd get an idea as to who had made it to Planet Christmas before the Alliance did. The lack of identification however was just another question that he had to deal with.

"Old _Behemoth_-class battlecruiser, making its way towards the planet," said Corder. "Based on its trajectory, it seems intent on landing near Christmas Village."

Corder's words only backed up what Haley could see with his own eyes, the hologram of Planet Christmas now including the craft heading towards it. He turned back to the nav,

"Sure we have no identification?"

"Correct sir. Either they're hiding identification or it simply isn't there."

Haley nodded, silent suspecting the latter. The humans of the Koprulu Sector had been divided into factions ever since they'd first arrived, only united for a brief period under the Dominion before the UED and zerg sent it crashing down. Simply put, there was no need to hide your colors. The lack of them however, pointed to one thing-pirates. And with law enforcement of the systems having evaporated in recent times, there were now more lawbreakers than ever.

_Could the pirates have got here before us? _Haley wondered. _Saving Planet Christmas only to take the zerg's place?_

There was one way to find out. Straightening himself up, the commander gave orders to open communications with the unidentified craft and for weapon systems to be made ready. The Alliance may have to this world to fight zerg, but protecting innocents was still part of that intent. If they had to fight space pirates, so be it.

And if the worst came to the worst, at least Haley could show off his uniform.

* * *

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

**Christmas Village**

_Even now, after all these years, Christmas Eve still sucks._

These weren't the most dignified thoughts that James Raynor had ever thought up and given his current situation, were probably among the most inappropriate also. Yet he could not help but reflect how Christmas Eve had never been a particularly pleasant time of year in his childhood-the agonizing wait for Christmas Day to come, the laborious, last minute preparations for the day itself…Christmas Day often mode up for it, but even so, that didn't completely dilute the bitter aftertaste.

"Their bodies have been taken into this planet's soil, becoming one with that which they sought to defend…"

Raynor snapped back to reality, finding himself still in the middle of the sermon. The surviving Raiders and members of the Christmas Corporation were gathered on the edge of town, looking at row upon row of graves. The new homes for the deceased, having been dug up quickly after the defeat of the zerg.

_And they'll still be here tomorrow, _Raynor thought to himself. _Some Christmas this is going to be._

Unlike past years, the former marshal knew that there would be nothing to dilute the bitter aftertaste of Christmas Eve. The living would continue to dwell on Planet Christmas, though now did so alongside the dead. Christmas Village was heavily damaged and the corporation itself was in ruins. Submission to the Dominion was the only option left to it and Raynor somehow doubted that Mengsk would be particularly interested in keeping the Christmas Spirit alive.

_Hell, he'll probably try to set himself up as Santa, _the captain thought to himself, allowing a small smile to form. He pictured Mengsk and the Old Earth image of Santa, finding that it wasn't hard to combine the two together. Have Santa receive instead of give and the emperor fit the role perfectly.

"We will never forget those who came down to the ice of hell and did not return," continued the sermon. "Their memory will be forever honored."

Raynor somehow doubted that and for all the charisma that "Santa" portrayed (_Never did learn the man's real name, _he thought to himself), he suspected that the CEO knew it. What happened here would be erased from the history books. The Dominion had covered up the events on Braxis spectacularly. They wouldn't have any problem ensuring that Planet Christmas was forgotten also.

_Nor the people that died here…_

Raynor shut himself off from reality again, not giving a damn what the CEO said. No-one could speak for the dead. No-one. He couldn't talk to those he'd lost today. No-one would ever hear about Dawn's last struggle with the Zergrinch. No tales would be told of Granger's sacrifice against the creature. Nothing would be remembered. In time, the truth would be buried along with those who made such truths possible.

_Never thought of you as a martyr, Alex, _thought the rebel. He'd heard of what Granger had done, how he'd consumed both himself and the Zergrinch in fire. An odd move for a mercenary, considering that you couldn't spend money when you were dead, but then again, Granger hadn't always been like that. He'd had ideals once, just like Raynor had. People could change…could they not change back?

Despite their strained reunion, the former marshal liked to think so. He liked to think that Alexander Granger had for one shining moment, returned to the man he'd once been before reality had poisoned him. Before reality had poisoned everything.

"The ideals they stood for, the virtues on which they made their stand…"

Raynor couldn't take it. Slipping through the crowd, he headed off, not looking back. He'd had enough of idealism. He'd had enough of taking on jobs that didn't result in material gain and after learning that their payment would be the grand total of zero credits, he suspected that his men would have had enough of it too.

_Hell, at this rate, I'll be lucky to avoid a mutiny…_

He knew he should have seen this coming. He still remembered Mike's words back on Antiga Prime, what he'd told him after rescuing General Duke from his crashed ship. And even now, his communicator beeping as Horner called him to the _Hyperion _for some reason, he remembered them clearly…

_Don't go following causes. They'll just break your heart. When idealism meets reality, it's rarely reality that backs down._

"You don't know how right you are, Mike," murmured Raynor bitterly, having conversed with Horner, informed that someone on the _Hyperion _wanted to see him.

"You really have no idea…"

Or maybe he did. Maybe that's what made him a more effective rebel…

…he could see reality.

* * *

**Polaris Beta System, Planet Christmas**

_**Behemoth**__-_**class Battlecruiser **_**Hyperion**_

"So…you're the pilot of this ship?"

Matt Horner nodded, fighting the urge to lick his lips, jingle a leg or any one of the many forms of showing that you were worried. Still, confronted by a man flanked by two soldiers in powered armor and whose allegiance was unknown, it was hard not to crack just a bit.

_But I won't _Horner thought to himself. _The captain's coming, I just have to hold on until then._

"You warm, Horner?"

"No…" said the lieutenant. "Why?"

"You're sweating."

Cursing silently, Horner went to wipe his brow, thought better of it and somehow managed to stand up straighter.

If there was one thing that kept him in place, it was logic. If this man meant him and the Raiders ill, he would have turned the _Hyperion_'s landing site into a smoldering crater rather than landing his own ship and asking to be let onboard. Yet he'd insisted upon seeing the captain of the vessel and had refused to leave until the captain arrived.

_He isn't that tough though_…Horner thought to himself, looking down at the man who had seated himself in the chair Raynor usually resided in. A crisp black uniform with numerous ribbons, short brown hair of regulation length, brown eyes… He was like something out of a recruitment video, the type that the Dominion had been broadcasting over the last few months. Yet there was something else about him. A type of familiarity…

Horner shook his head. He'd stick with the recruitment analogy.

_Guess that means Raynor's going to hate him even more_, the lieutenant thought to himself. _Unless…_

"Alright, I'm here. Now what the hell do you want?"

_Nah, he hates him._

Horner shifted his gaze to the bridge's entrance, watching in relief as his superior walked in. It was seemingly to the relief of their visitor as well, rising to meet the man that he sought.

"Captain James Raynor," he said, extending a hand. "An honor, truly."

"I doubt that," said Raynor simply. "People are rarely honored to meet me. Instead they…they…"

Horner raised an eyebrow, as did the visitor. Raynor however, was the exception to the rule, simply staring.

"Sir? Are you alright?" asked the XO.

Raynor didn't answer. He simply stared…

…stared in shock.

* * *

Granger…it couldn't be.

Raynor didn't believe in resurrection, at least not in the conventional sense. Kerrigan and Stukov may have demonstrated that resurrection was possible, but that was at the whim of the zerg. Whatever deity may have existed, he'd clearly been outclassed and since He probably didn't exist, the zerg didn't have any competition. Still, if their resurrection was the only type available, then maybe the lack of competition was for the best.

Creatures from hell were bad enough. Gods of hell would be even worse…

Yet looking at the man before him, Raynor couldn't help but wonder. The slim figure, the brown hair, eyes that while of a different color were just as sharp as ever. It was as if Alex had been reborn, albeit as an ideal rather than the individual he was.

"Commander Haley of the Alliance," the imposter said, his hand still outstretched.

And Raynor understood. A commander…the same rank Granger had held. This was a different man, a version that life had thrown at him to remind the former marshal of the person his friend had once been and thanks to the zerg, never would be again.

It was enough to make him sick.

"Jim Raynor of the Raiders," said the captain formerly, refusing to grasp Haley's hand. "And whatever it is you're selling, I'm not interested."

"Selling?" Haley laughed. He tapped his rank insignia. "Does it look like I'm selling stuff to you?"

"No," said the rebel simply. "Now get the hell off my ship."

"Ah yes, _your _ship," said the commander sarcastically. "Is that what you told Duke when you stole it?"

It was probably Raynor's imagination, but he could have sworn that the room just got colder.

"This ship is the _Hyperion_," said Haley simply. "A Confederate vessel that crashed in Umojan territory after the Guild Wars, subsequently used by Arcturus Mengsk in his rebellion against the Confederacy and once again changing hands at the Dylarian Shipyards over a year ago." He locked his gaze with Raynor's. "Trust me captain, I've done my homework."

Raynor glanced at Horner, looking for an explanation. Given the look of bemusement on the lieutenant's face, he doubted that he'd be getting one.

"So…you're not selling me stuff…" said the rebel slowly. "Then what are you here for?"

Haley smiled. "To talk. Specifically, to discuss what occurred on this planet over the past few days."

Raynor shrugged. "Not much to say really."

"Oh I think there is," said Haley sharply. "I think there's a lot."

Raynor fell silent. Haley, whoever he was, had the upper hand in this conversation. And even as he told his bodyguards to head back to the _Iron Fist _(whatever that was), he could tell that the commander still had it.

"Understand my situation," said Haley eventually. "I receive a distress call from Planet Christmas, coming here with all due haste. Upon arrival however, I find that someone's done my work for me." He leant forward on his chair. "I'd like to know how and why…"

Raynor had answers for him. Answers that involved the words "strategy" and "misguided combination of ideals and mercenary work" respectively. But he wasn't going to give those answers. Not yet at least.

"Your guards…" said Raynor slowly. "Why did you bring them?"

Haley shrugged. "Security reasons really. I couldn't be completely sure that you weren't space pirates."

"But we're not pirates!" Horner exclaimed. "I thought we'd established that!"

Haley sighed. "I know that lieutenant. I also know that you're part of a group called Raynor's Raiders. A group that according to the Dominion, is nothing but a terrorist organization. A group that as far as I can tell, just saved an entire planet from the zerg." He smiled faintly. "See my dilemma?"

Raynor nodded, beginning to walk around his chair. "I do. What I don't know, is why I should give a damn."

"But you do give a damn," said the commander simply. "You saved an entire planet, and if it wasn't for me, you'd already be on your way. Without _payment_."

Raynor stopped pacing. He knew what was coming and he didn't need it. He didn't want to hear another over-idealistic fool yammering on to him about what to do with his life.

"Listen Haley," he snarled. "I don't know what you want, and quite frankly, I don't care.

Haley nodded. "I know that captain. But what _you _want is another matter entirely."

Raynor fell silent.

"I know all about you James Raynor," said Haley slowly. "I checked up your files as soon as your XO identified this ship as the _Hyperion_. I know that Mengsk's portrayal of you and the Raiders is a lie and that you saved this planet. And I also know why."

"Really? And why's that?"

"Because you need to," said the commander. "You need to believe in something. Circumstances haven't been favorable to belief in recent times, but you've just demonstrated here what belief can do."

"That wasn't me," whispered Raynor. "I didn't lead the attack."

"But you came here," said Haley. "And you know as well as I do that if a similar opportunity presented itself, you'd take it." He leant back in his chair. "You don't lack belief, captain. What you lack is vision."

Raynor snorted. Lacked vision? Of course he did. If he was a visionary, he'd end up just like Mengsk, seeking to carve out his own empire.

"You mentioned that you were part of the Alliance," said the former marshal. "An alliance of what, exactly?"

Haley gestured towards Horner. "Care to tell him lieutenant?"

Horner looked towards Raynor. His superior looked back at him.

"Matt? You know something?"

Horner shrugged awkwardly. "I've heard of the Alliance," he said. "Or rather read about it. Or rather-…"

"Just tell me what you know."

Horner sighed. "Not much sir. Only that it's an independent organization, performing activities throughout the Koprulu Sector."

"What kind of activities?"

Horner remained silent, suggesting he didn't know. Regardless, Haley came to his rescue.

"Activities against the zerg," the commander said. "Activities that safeguard the interests of protoss and terrans in this sector. Activities that are not so different from yours on Char and Aiur." He got to his feet, standing toe to toe with Raynor.

"Activities that I'd be honored if you were part of."

Silence descended upon the bridge. A silence that not even the humming consoles could break. A silence that was only interrupted by Raynor's laughter.

"You're hilarious, you know that?" he laughed, walking past Haley towards the viewport. "After all the times I've followed false causes, you expect me to follow yours?"

"No," said the commander firmly, walking after him. "I expect you to follow _yours_."

Raynor turned to face him.

"You've followed false causes ever since the Guild Wars and now, free of Mengsk, you can fight for what you believe in."

"Really?" Raynor sneered. "And what's that?"

"Humanity," said Haley simply. "You came here because you believe in humanity. You believe in the value of human life, in things beyond whatever payment the Christmas Corporation could have given you. And above all, you believe in your friends, else you wouldn't have entrusted Alexander Granger with this mission, wouldn't have trusted him even after he eliminated one of his own squads."

Raynor glanced at Horner, wondering how much the lieutenant had _really _told the commander and how much the recruiter knew from running a profile check. At this point in time though, it probably didn't matter.

But what _did _matter now? Planet Christmas was safe, he was without payment…what now?

"Sir, if I may?" asked Horner.

Raynor sighed. "Yes Matt?"

The lieutenant swallowed. "Captain, I think Haley's right."

Raynor switched his gaze immediately. "What?"

"Sir, I know what I saw when you agreed to this mission," said Horner earnestly. "I saw you. The _real _you. The one who wouldn't turn down an opportunity like this. The person who would ensure that his friends didn't die in vain."

"Matt…" said Raynor slowly. "What about the Raiders?"

"We can do our part," said Horner. "Just like you can do yours."

Raynor sighed and turned to face Haley. The man who looked like the person Granger had once been. The type of person Raynor could become again…if only he took the chance.

"Change is never easily," the commander said, as if reading Raynor's thoughts."But not changing is even harder. And as the zerg have demonstrated, if humanity can't change with the times, we'll find ourselves in a position where the opportunity to change is denied to us."

Raynor remained silent, his mind elsewhere, centered on Mike, Kerrigan, Granger… Those he'd once considered friends and now, due to circumstance, would probably never see again. He had no idea where Mike was, Kerrigan was as good as dead to him and Granger _was _dead…

How many more people were going to die in this new age?

In the end, Raynor made his choice. A choice that he'd made long ago. A choice that had led him through the best and worst experiences of his life. A choice that he knew had been made for the right reasons.

"Commander…" he said slowly, beginning to experience joy on Christmas Eve for the first time in his life. "Care if I make a new year's resolution a few days early?"

Haley didn't mind and so Raynor did so. He made his resolution…

…and he'd see it through.

**The End**

* * *

_A/N_

_Well, that's one more story complete._

_I guess this is the point where authors are given the opportunity to go on a self indulgent ramble. I guess the temptation is there, as I had to write this chapter out twice due to my hard drive screwing up due to a design flaw and losing every single piece of data as a result. Still, I'd printed the chapter out, so it wasn't as hard as it had to be to finish off the chapter._

_As for the story itself...well, I'm not that surprised that feedback was so low. The subject matter would seem rediculous to many I guess. Still, I saw the opportunity to expand upon the story presented by and took it. I'm willing to bet that "the commander" (or Alexander Granger as I named him) really did die in the mission as unlike most _StarCraft _missions, you don't fail if he dies. And since the old player characters are "dead and gone" (or in the case of Artanis involved in place swopping), at least we have something of an explanation, while many of the other player characters didn't require it._

_Regardless, I'm not fond of the player character mechanic anyway. I'm glad that Blizzard is having us play as "real" characters in _StarCraft II_._

_And of course, there was my choice to have Raynor join the Alliance at this point in time. Like many times, he gains a sense of purpose, only to lose it and become a freedom fighter against the Dominion. All that had to be provided was the proper catalyst._

_Anyway, thanks go to Shiera for her reviews and um...yeah. More works in the _StarCraft _universe can be expected in the future though, as I'll be turning my attention back to _Loomings. _After that...well, time and writing order will tell._


End file.
